Dangerous Woman
by moonlessmondays
Summary: Written after a prompt tweeted by Imagine OQ: "Imagine an au with Regina as the teacher and Robin as the student. #OutlawQueen" Hence, this was born.
1. One

**Hi! So C_SpanishOncer tweeted me a prompt from ImagineOQ on twitter, and asked if I could write one, and I took the bait. I'm weak, what can I say?**

 **I hope you like it. It's supposed to be a one-shot but i'm definite that it's a two-parter (smut next chapter ladies and gents(?)). So yeah, enjoy!**

 **Officially off hiatus, by the way.**

 _My many many thanks and love for Miles who has been so incredibly patient with me, not just with this fic but for the past few weeks. Thanks for the beta, I love you forever and ever, Tramp or Trump, it's the same thing. Thank you._

* * *

 **Chapter One**

He's running late.

It isn't in his plan to be, and he knows it is bad form to be, but there are things in life that he just cannot control—his son throwing a tantrum just before he's about to leave is certainly one of those. Even worse is that he couldn't seem to find his designated classroom, had actually been in a different one, burst in (thankfully the lecturer hadn't been there) and embarrassed himself because that had _not_ been his Literature class.

Well, isn't that just bloody great.

And now he makes a mad dash down the corridor to get to the room on time, and he has less than a minute to go before he is absolutely late while the hall seems to get even _longer_ by the second. Robin huffs and puffs and takes about two seconds to regroup and to breathe when he makes it outside the door, before he pushes in, panting and all—only to be met with the raised eyebrow of the woman on the front of the class.

Her hands still as she stares him down, making him feel heat rise up his body to his face out of sheer embarrassment. He's not even sure what to say or do, because he's left speechless.

She's gorgeous, absolutely, positively, _sinfully_ so and his brain short circuits. Had he been under different circumstances he would have…well there had been things he would have tried to do that are strictly prohibited here in this reality, and the thoughts make him berate himself silently because apparently, she is also his professor—and she is most definitely _not_ pleased.

"Is there a reason you're interrupting my class?" She asks, her voice deep and sounding terribly put off at his little stunt.

Of course there is no reason, only that he's a colossal fool and he's stupid enough not to have used the back door, instead he bursts into the room through the front door and now he's put in the spot, managing to increase the professor's ire by the second.

"I'm sorry, milady, I just—" He stammers, grapples for a valid excuse but coming up with nothing because how is he supposed to explain that _his_ son isn't having any of his _I'm-going-to-school-today-just-like-you-you-see_ thing, or that he's stupid enough to have wound up in the wrong classroom before he'd realized that it hadn't been for his Literature class but for whatever class it had been supposed to be?

Yeah, no such luck there.

Robin watches as her lips thin and she frowns, gives a hard look before she shifts on her feet and raises an eyebrow. "It's Professor Mills to you," she tells him, and he bites his lip—it's a force of habit to have called her _milady,_ chivalry isn't dead after all. And then she continues with an irritated, "Well, you're in the wrong classroom. This is my schedule, I have this room for this time."

That makes him stop, makes him take a few steps back to subtly glance at the sign on the door and yes, he _is_ in the right room—303, it says, and he has the room 303 for his Literature class, he's sure of that, until it hits him that she must have mistaken him for a professor like herself, and well, he probably would have been if things hadn't happened the way they had.

Robin reaches up, scratches the back of his head and sighs, feels heat rise up in his cheek, though he tells himself that it is nothing to be embarrassed about. He hears her sigh and turn with irritation as she gives him a look.

"Well, you aren't in the right room, and that's sad for you, but I do have a lecture to get on to," she tells him dismissively.

"I do believe I am, mi-erm-Professor Mills," he says then, looking at her and trying to ignore the fact that there must be a hundred other students watching this very display. "I have Literature 101 in room 303."

Her features change and she looks curious now rather than annoyed, and that's better, he thinks. "What?" she asks, and he detects a hint of wonder in her voice and he swallows, nods, and looks away. He isn't sure if he can look at her and watch her eyes change into something—pity, judgment—whatever it is, he isn't interested to see it. But her voice is neutral when she speaks again and it makes him whip his head up when she says, "So you're a student in my class."

He nods, though she needs no answers, and mutters a barely audible _yes_.

"What's your name?" she asks looking down at her class list.

"Locksley," he says, "Robin Locksley."

She huffs then and crosses her arms across her chest. "You're late," she accuses and he only gulps, he knows he is. "And you've just wasted ten minutes of my time. Now get to your seat and try not to get in my way of teaching."[MF1]

He mutters an "I wouldn't dream of it," under his breath, hoping she hasn't heard, but by the look she throws at him as he passes, he's sure that she has.

The subtle smirk that she sends his way doesn't escape his notice either.

 **…**

He sees her again, a few days later, and though he realizes that he _is_ bound to see her a lot considering she's his teacher, right now he sees her in a different setting. He sees her outside of school, and he's surprised, thought pleasantly so, because he's never thought that she would be the type to come into such a regular off-campus diner for coffee or anything else, really, but she does just that.

It had been early on a Friday and he had begged his friend Will to babysit his son for him so he could try and cram for an exam happening that day as well and he'd camped up at Granny's to do just that. Robin had been there for quite a few hours, had downed a lot of cup of coffee and had understood nothing in his reading materials when she came in. He'd looked up when bell above the door jiggles and she walks in, hair all blown out by the wind outside, her cheeks tinged with a soft pink from the cold.

He finds her stunning, in every way, finds her face so fair the evil queen from that fairy tale snow white would have envied her and she distracts him, but he cannot let that happen, she's his professor above all else, and that's forbidden, but even if she hadn't been, even if they would have had found themselves in a different scenario or lifetime, he still won't have entertained those thoughts, _still won't_ , because she's a thousand flights of stairs too high out of his reach. So he tries to concentrate on his work, tries to study about the history test he has coming up (it's only a few weeks in and _yes_ he has a test because his professor in his history class is wicked and she's absolutely hell bent on making everybody's lives miserable), tries not to think of his stunning professor who is more off limits than he could possibly even begin to narrate.

He's mildly successful (he's not at all, she's within his radius, walking in the diner in her black coat and impossibly high heels), but focus dissipates to nothing when she hovers over the stool where she is seated and crosses her arms across her chest impatiently.

"You're in my seat," she tells him flatly, booking no argument.

He looks up and grimaces, "I didn't know it's taken," he can't help but say because it's terribly childish, really, and so incredibly adorable of her—no, no, stop it Robin.

"Well, it is, and it's mine. You merely stole it," she says, and Robin could almost swear she's flirting with him. And then she peers into his eyes and narrows hers. Recognition hovers over her brown orbs, though it is hazy and unsure. "Wait, have we met before?"

Well, this is awkward, isn't it?

She's his professor, he her student and though he only has one of her, she has hundreds of students, and he understands her confusion, so he smiles.

"I doubt I would ever forget that meeting," he tells her, teasing her though he really shouldn't, how dare he. "My name's Robin Locksley, I am in your Literature 101 class, Professor Mills."

"Ah, the late comer," she says when recognition finally dawns with certainty. "I actually prefer Regina. Well, when we're outside campus, that is." She smiles before she looks down at the handouts scattered in front of him, looks at him and raises an eyebrow. "You really think you can bring down Zelena's history test with a few hours of cramming, coffee and some trusty old garlic sticks?"

There is a hint of teasing in her voice, and if he's dreaming he really, really doesn't want to wake up.

"Well, I can certainly try," he counters and bites down on his lip. He looks up at her with a amusement and wonder, and she stares back at him with a badly contained smirk.

"Good luck with that," she tells him with a shrug, before she turns her attention to Ruby, the waitress, and orders. When Ruby comes back with a coffee to go, she accepts and pays before turning to him. "Best of luck with your history test, and for now, you can keep my seat, _thief_."

He smirks at her, though his mind is reeling. Is this even normal behavior, surely it isn't? Teachers don't flirt with their students no matter how close in age they are (and he could tell that they are, actually he knows that they are), and he should _not_ be flirting back.

But there is a pull between them, and really he cannot stop himself.

"You're going to trust something valuable to a common _thief_ like me?" he asks with a hint of amusement.

She chuckles and shakes her head, turning back and walking away.

"You can't steal what's been given to you," is all she says.

 **…**

It is a turn, a confusing one, because after that meeting they have started becoming friendly with one another. Even though she's still the stuffy professor in class, which he totally understands, she's a professional, his professor at that and it's only right—she is still cordial to him outside of class, has even at inadvertently had coffee with him at Granny's a few (a lot) times through the semester—they had accidentally been there at the same time and had sat next to each other on the counter and shared coffee and some stories.

It seems innocent enough, and it is, they aren't doing anything wrong, they're just sharing stories and drinking coffee (she doesn't daytime drink, she says), and he believes it, he does, if he says enough. They are just two friends hanging out, it just so happens that she's his teacher and he's her student—something is wrong in that, he knows but chooses to ignore it because it's all innocent and not wrong at all (his attraction to her be damned).

Only it feels more intimate than that.

He'd told her stories about himself that he doesn't usually share because it's so easy with her, everything seems to just flow naturally. There is an ease between them that he cannot name or place, but he's not questioning it. He tells her about his five year old son, Roland, and how he's become the light of his life. He tells her about his late girlfriend, Roland's mother, who had passed while giving birth to their child, and how much toll it had taken him. He tells her about his decision to come back to University so he could give his son a better life, and also to fulfill the dreams he put on hold for Roland.

He doesn't usually open up, not like this, but she makes it seem so easy.

She gives him advice about his classes or how to handle her colleagues, gives him studying tips. She tells him of her classes, makes funny anecdotes about some of colleagues and students, talks to him in depth about books she loves or even hates. She's even told him of they are the same, of how she'd had to deal with the loss of a man she's loved—Daniel, she says his name is—and how devastated she's been. She's been saved by her nephew who's been left to her care when his mother has passed.

"His name is Henry," she says, beaming, "He's seven. I actually had the same experience, but I had him three years ago when his mother had passed, she'd left in her will that I take care of his son—we were good friends, lived together as roommates in college and sometime after that—and she doesn't trust anyone with her son, not that she can, she's had no other relatives, and when she'd told me about that clause in her will—well, after a few misgivings, I realized I couldn't really resist my godson."

Her godson that she treats and loves like her own son.

She talks about the first time the boy had called her mama, and how that had broken her heart and confused her, but she's adored it so much, loved hearing it from him, and she'd confessed that maybe it makes her selfish and weak but even if she wanted to (she doesn't), she cannot have told Henry not to call her that. She had long since promised herself and her son that she'd never make him forget about his birth mother and when Henry is old enough, she'll explain everything.

"It must be hard for you," he empathizes, touching her hand, and he feels electricity run through them, feels his veins pulse and hears his heart thunder. It isn't the first time he's touched her certainly, but it has never been a direct contact, always just a touch of her sleeve or just his arm casually slung at the back of her chair.

Touching her skin is different—it feels…he feels the static, feels the tingling, and feels every nerve-ending raging.

She pulls her hands away as if burned and she looks up at him with eyes that tell a lot more than words can say and he's not sure what to do at the moment, only knows what he wants to, and that is to kiss her which is the very textbook definition of what not to do.

She doesn't even say a word, and it barely registers to him until she's gone, but she flees away from him, half runs out of the diner without another word or another backward glance.

And he sits there in his stool, alone and confused.

Not just by her actions but with his own feelings.

 **…**

Sometimes it's easy to forget that she is his teacher, except when the week begins and he has to attend her lectures and he is jolted by the reality that she is his teacher and he is her student and whatever might have gone between them during those times at granny's don't hold much water (and that they aren't very right though they have done nothing wrong).

But now, now it's not that hard to remember anymore. She reminds him every chance she gets with that stoicism and coldness that leaves no hint of the woman he's come to know over the months. She's all professional and her mask is back in place.

She ignores him, and he has tried, tried so hard, to catch her attention. He's tried to engage her in a conversation that does not involve Austen or Conan Doyle or Poe, or any of the people she discusses in class that has nothing to do with the two of them, or what has happened. But she's not responding to him, steadfastly ignores him when they meet at the hallway, has even changed the time she comes to Granny's to avoid him (damned stubborn woman).

He shouldn't pursue this, he knows that, should leave things enough alone, but he cannot. It's hard to when he feels things for her that he shouldn't, when the sight of her has his heart jumping, when that elusive smile satisfies him to no bounds when it appears, especially if he's the one who has made it to. It's hard to just ignore everything when his mind tells him that this a bad idea, she's a dangerous woman to be trifling with, but his heart keeps taking him to her.

He's fucked up of course, he realizes that. He shouldn't even entertain thoughts that would lead them to the path of broken hearts, but he cannot help himself, cannot stop himself when there is a pull between them stronger than him and his resolve.

She is stronger than him, it seems, because he cannot stay away from her—even if he knows that it is the best thing to do. He knows the repercussions, knows the danger of this even though he hasn't realized how quickly he's fallen into _this_ , until he's hit the ground, and not—now he's just not sure.

Though he's sure that he cannot continue this way, can't live a life where he's hanging on a limbo because he likes her and feels something for her that scares her. She's got much more to lose, he realizes that, but…but nothing, really, it's just that at the very least, they deserve closure. They can't go on like this.

So with a determination in his step that does not at all match his feelings, he marches up to her office (thank god for individual offices in this university). All he wants is to talk, that is all, nothing else, and he at least deserves a little explanation after she's run out on him like that.

"We need to talk," he spews in lieu of a greeting when he opens the door to her office.

She gives him a look, deathly if he ever saw one, and huffs, tells him shortly that she's busy and has no time. but he stands his ground, she's not pushing him away again.

"Robin, I really don't have time," she tells him, irritated. "I have midterms to grade and a class to attend in ten minutes."

"Then come and talk to me somewhere after your classes end," he almost begs, because really, there is some truth to 'ain't too proud to beg' for the right woman.

She sighs and looks at him with exhaustion. "Fine," she tells him. "Meet me at the edge of the woods just off campus at four."

He raises an eyebrow but nods.

Before four o'clock even comes, he's already anxious and fidgeting, waiting at the edge of said 'woods' for her to appear. She does so, promptly at the time she's set, and gives him a curious stare before sighing and gesturing for him to follow. She leads them to the middle of the woods and finds an empty log where the take seats beside each other.

There is silence that hangs between them until he's sighs and shakes his head.

"So?" he begins, trailing off to silence when he realizes that of all the words he's practiced to tell her this moment, none has come out, and there is none that he remembers.

"This isn't right," she tells him point blank, and she's right of course, but he's stubborn and he doesn't like to admit that she is.

"We aren't doing anything wrong," he defends though he knows that it's not exactly true—because isn't it wrong to fall in love with your teacher?

She chuckles, dry and ironic, and casts him a side glance that has him shrugging with the innocence he does not possess.

"I wish that were true," she tells him with a sigh. "But don't you see that we're doing everything wrong?"

"No, Regina…" he says, and it isn't the first time he's said her name, he's done it a hundred times since that incident at granny's, but it makes her flinch and it makes him feel as though his heart is being squeezed. "We…we're many things but this isn't wrong. It certainly doesn't feel wrong."

He's right, he knows it, she knows it and it's pointless to argue.

"I'm your teacher," she points out, and that _is_ something, he concedes. "I can't—if anyone finds out and they misconstrue this as something else…I'm going to lose my job Robin and what about my son? Not to mention you could get kicked out and what then of _yours?_ " She sighs and looks at him with watery eyes, her lips trembling, and god in heaven he just wants to hug her and take the misgivings away. "We have so much to lose, and…I can't. I just cannot do this."

"Do you feel for me what I feel for you?" he asks, looking deep into her eyes. He wants to be able to see and know the truth.

She swallows and shakes her head, opens her mouth, no doubt to protest, but he doesn't let her, only asks her the same question, which makes her breathe out a soft, breathy, yes, yes I suppose I do, and it has him dropping his forehead against hers, hauling him to her and hugging her tight, wanting never to let her go.

She pulls him closer and breathes him in, closing her eyes. She breathes out, her breath coming out harsh and ragged, and he's unsure about what is going on in her head, though he really, really, really wants to know.

She pushes him away and stands, gathers her strength around her like a cape, squaring her shoulder and jutting her chin.

"You _need_ to forget about _me_ ," she whispers, "And start thinking about _your_ future."

And then she's out of there, walking away from him and taking his heart with her.

* * *

 **A/N2: Let me know what you think!**


	2. Two

**This took a while and I'm really sorry. Anyhoot, it's here now, so there we go. I hope you enjoy.**

 **This has become a four-parter instead of two-I know, sad (we can blame Miles). Though I have gotten 3 down and i have only one left to write. So yeah.** **My love and thanks to the one and only Miles for all her help and her encouragements and her flailing and for her yelling at me when I ask her to. She's one absolutely amazing beta and friend and I love her very much. Thanks tramp.**

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

He is charming and a gentleman and kind and chivalrous and simply wonderful; everything she wants in a man, everything she could _ever_ want. He is, also, unfortunately, so very out of her reach. So far out even though a touch of his hands has her pulse racing, has butterflies fluttering in her stomach, and her heart hammering in her chest.

Who is she kidding?

Even when he _only_ looks at her, she feels faint and feels like a teenager with a crush and rage of hormones all over again.

But he's out of her reach.

He's off limits, everything that she shouldn't want or feel desire for. It's wrong, it's all wrong, she cannot be having thoughts of him like this, he can't be occupying her thoughts every morning when she wakes, and still be the one that fills in before she goes to bed. She should be able to control herself better than this.

She has a son for god's sake. She cannot be acting like a schoolgirl.

But he is, with him, she is, and she cannot control herself, she keeps coming back even if she knows that it's wrong, knows that what she feels (it's _not_ love, it _can't_ be, but she's been here before—with Daniel—and she knows what it feels, to love someone, to be consumed with feelings, to feel it deep in her soul, and this is it, it had felt like this but _no_ it can't be, it's not the same, it _can't_ be), what she feels is simply _wrong_.

And since she cannot s0rt out what she feels for him (she knows it's something deep and something not quite up the par with things she _should_ feel), she chooses to stay away, chooses to ask him to forget about her and pick his future over this—it's not serious, it's something that will fade out in time, something he'll forget and she'll move on from, it has to be.

Only, it's not. And even when she asks him to stay away (he does), she still wants to be near him.

She has all the facts, she's his teacher and he her student, and she has feelings for him and he for her; yet there is only one thing she wants.

All she wants is to be with him.

 **…**

"If you want to be with him, then you should be." Is what Mary Margaret tells her when Regina finally musters up the courage to talk to someone about it.

Of course, the irony is not lost on her that she tells her step-sister about it, of all people, when she had sworn when she had been younger that she would never trust her nosy little Disney Princess of a step sister after Mary Margaret had blabbed to Cora that she'd caught Regina kissing Daniel. Regina knows now how much her mother could be a piped piper and master manipulator when she wants to, but teenager Regina had been very angry then.

Regina rolls her eyes and huffs right then, exhaling through her mouth and clenching her fists. "Did you even listen?" she asks with exasperation.

"I heard you." Mary Margaret raises an eyebrow, "Is he a minor?" she asks, and Regina shakes her head, frowning. "Then everything else are just minimal details."

Regina gasps and her eyes widen with disbelief. "Details? I don't think you're grasping everything here correctly. Mary Margaret, Robin is my student. I could go to jail! What of my son then? And of his? I can't just risk everything, my job, my son, his education and his son, just for…" She pauses, wanting to say that it's for lust, but she knows it's more than that, it's more than just wanting him, more than just attraction, more than just a need for a night. She wants more with him, and he means more to her.

"You can't even say that it's nothing but just lust," Mary Margaret says with a sigh, taking her hand in hers and looking her in the eye. "Regina, I know you. You're the most resilient, strongest person I know. You also have the biggest heart I know, you feel things deeply, feel everything all at once, and I know that when you get like this, when you get invested and fall, I know you feel it with your whole soul." Mary Margaret gives a small, soft smile. "Don't let anything hold you back."

Regina feels tears prickle her eyes, and all she wants is to follow, wants to take the chance, wants to follow her heart and let it lead her to him, but all she does for now is sigh.

 **…**

The thing is, hearts are traitorous organs and she's learned a long time that maybe, it isn't always the best thing to listen to it. Loving someone wholly, fully can only lead to heartbreak, and she's had enough of it in her lifetime to even think of subjecting herself through it again.

But the thing is that fate is also quite a bitch.

And that is why, when she walks into the library, fully expecting it to be empty because of the late hour (she had wanted to go and check her test papers without her son distracting her like he does at home) of course, she actually spots the last person she wants to see, buried deep in a book.

This cannot have just been a coincidence because the out of all the places, he is there, exactly where she prefers to be when she's working, in the exact same table, sitting on her chair. His back is to her and so she backs away, slowly, sure that she's not being heard, hoping at the very least that she isn't.

"You're not very good at sneaking," he half whispers, and she gapes, surprised that he knows there is someone, and even better—that it's her. He closes the book in front of him and turns to her, eyebrow raised. "I heard the clicking of your heels. They aren't the quietest shoes."

"I—" she stammers, unsure about what to say, there really isn't anything to say, is there? And if there are words, she doesn't want to say them, not right now.

"You've been avoiding me," he accuses, and she thinks that this is not the right way for him to speak to her, but does it really even matter, when she's here, and he's there a few steps away from her looking like a model in his brown pants and green shirt, smelling like forest, smelling like home.

And what can she say to that? He's right, she is.

"For good reason," she snipes at him, bringing up her defense and gathering it around her like a cloak. She cannot let herself be weak, not about this, not about _love…_ no…not love…not exactly…

He raises an eyebrow, eyes hardening and lips thinning. "You don't give in an inch, don't you, Regina?" he asks with a hint of contempt and frustration, and she understands him, where he's coming from, but she doesn't like it.

She huffs and scoffs, and heaves her bag over her shoulder, before wrapping her arms around her waist. She hates that she feels small now, hates that she feels this way, because she never has, and especially not with him because he lets her be herself, lets her just be Regina. "It's not right, don't you understand that?" she asks, and then she breathes in deeply, squares her shoulders. "I can't risk everything just for a dalliance."

She literally sees something akin to anger flash across his eyes, and then before she can even register anything, he's moving, standing from his chair and walking over to her with purposeful strides. He grabs her by her upper arm, firm but not enough to hurt. She looks at him with wild eyes, unsure where this is about to lead, but she lets him drag her knowing he is not capable of hurting her physically. Everything about them might hurt right now, but he can never lay his hands on her to hurt her—of that she is sure.

She is surprised when he stops at a semi-secluded aisle (they could make out here and n0 one would see unless they actually peer in—not the best thought to have though), and pushes her against the shelves, leaning in dangerously close to her face so their lips are level. His breath is ragged, and so is hers, her heart pounding in her chest with every breath that leaves her lungs. His hand inches up to her shoulder and pushes against the straps of her bag until it falls to the floor next to them with a thud, and then he wraps both his hands around her waist.

"Everyone deserves a second chance, Regina," he whispers harshly, hot breath heating her already overheated skin, but there is a softness, a gentleness in his tone which has always been present when she regards him. "But you need to open your heart to it."

She looks deep into his eyes, heart quickening even more at their proximity—and then she cannot stand it anymore, she grabs his shirt and presses her lips to his. And then they're kissing—she's kissing him and he's kissing her hot and hard, taking her breath away and stealing her sanity. She shoves her hand under his shirt and touches his hard stomach, wondering and reveling in its hard planes as he changes the angle of their kiss. His mouth pushes in her mouth, eliciting a moan from deep within her throat, and god, she'd love to hike up her leg around his waist and rock her hips against his, but she tries to remember that they're still in the library, a very public place, and no matter how much she wants him, it's not a good idea.

His hands squeeze against her hips, and she moves an inch closer until even she's not sure where he starts and where she ends, but it doesn't matter, not now when they are one breath, one heart, one soul. This…this feels like home, and she's never believed it possible to find the other part of your soul, to find that one person whose kisses make you feel like flying, but she has, she's found it in him.

"Regina," he whispers against her skin as he rests his forehead against hers, "I…" he breathes out, making hers hitch because she knows what's coming, she feels it too, but she can't.

"I know," she whispers, forcing her tears not to fall, forcing her heart not to break. He pulls a bit away so their eyes meet, and he opens his mouth to say something but she reaches up and places her index finger on his lips. "Don't say it, please don't."

It will only hurt more—she thinks, but she doesn't say that.

He pulls away then completely, hands leaving her body, and then he's backing away, shaking his head at her. He doesn't say anything, only looks down and turns back, walking away from her.

And never again looking back.

 **…**

Regina looks back over her shoulder in panic before she turns back to her blonde haired friend with a shushing glare. The last thing she needs is for someone to overhear their conversation because they'd been careless. She sighs mentally when she realizes that the door is closed and whatever they have (or had, because she's done with this conversation) been talking about would only come out as muffled sounds outside.

She's always known it is a bad idea to talk about anything personal in this University, even if the woman she's talking about is supposed to be the guidance counselor or her best friend since grade school.

It's never safe.

"Who told you?" Regina hisses at her friend, Isabella Tinkerson, fists clenching. She sits just across the blonde woman in Tink's (Regina has called her friend that since because of how much Isabella reminded Regina of Tinkerbelle, and it had stuck).

Tink smirks and her blue eyes sparkle, and Regina could almost taste the answer floating in the air.

"Mary Margaret," Regina practically spits, her teeth grinding because she had known it had been a bad idea. And it is. "I knew she couldn't keep a secret."

Well, at least she hadn't told Cora.

"Don't be mad at her," Tink says with a raised eyebrow, and Regina only scoffs and crosses her arms across her chest. "You would have told me anyway." And she's right, but still. "So? Tell me more. All Mary Margaret told me was that you fancy someone and he's forbidden. So, is he hot?"

Regina balks at this, because out of all the questions she's expected, it's not this, but still, it's what is asked, and this is Isabella, she shouldn't even be surprised.

"What?" Regina sputters, and Tink responds with a pointed raising of an eyebrow. "Yes, he is."

Regina blushes at the words that leave her mouth, and she shouldn't, she shouldn't feel like a teenager with a crush, she's not, she's a grown ass woman with a respectable job, and she should _not_ be acting like a girl.

"And does he like you, too?" Tink asks, and Regina nods, slowly, unsure, but she thinks of her encounters with Robin, how he's asked for a second chance, basically….the way he's kissed the life out of her, made her knees go weak. "By that look on your face, I can say that it is a yes."

Regina glares, and then rolls her eyes. "Yes, if you must know you pesky moth, he says he feels something for me, too," she admits, and saying it makes her heart flutter, her stomach to flip excitedly.

He likes her.

He definitely does, and it's the first time that Regina has admitted it to anyone.

She shouldn't feel like she's just won the lottery, but good god, she feels like she just had.

"So, if you like him and he likes you, what's the hang up?" Tink asks with a frown. "Is he married?"

"He was," she answers with a sigh. That isn't even the problem… "His wife is dead."

"Okay?" Tink drawls with a quirked eyebrow, and Regina wants to hurl. "So…what's the problem? Is he in some kind of a mafia? Or…." She pauses and her eyes widen. "Christ, he's in prison isn't he?"

Regina stops, chokes on air and her eyebrows furrow. "What?" she screeches, the surprise coloring her voice in so many different hues. "No, he's not in prison!" She then takes a pause and fidgets because this part has always been the hardest to admit, and not for the first time had she found herself wishing that she and Robin had met in a different circumstance. "He's…He's actually my student."

Tink gapes at her, and it's so comical, Regina would have laughed if her heart hadn't just sunk down to her feet. "Oh," is all that Tink says.

Regina tries to fight back the tears that press against her eyes. "Yes, oh," she agrees with a heavy heart. _Oh_ was putting it mildly.

"Well, who is it?"

"Robin Locksley," Regina answers with heaviness. Saying his name doesn't help her predicament here. She watches as Tink's face morphs from confusion to recognition and Regina wonders.

"Ah, the man with the lion tattoo?" Tink says, making Regina raise an eyebrow in question (she wonders how Tink even knows of that, when she had known of that only a few weeks ago), but her friend just shrugs. "What? There isn't much that I don't know." And that is actually the truth. Tink sighs, and looks Regina in the eye. "You need love, Regina. And he's there, offering it to you. I know it's difficult now, everything seems to be against you and him, but…I truly believe that love always finds a way. Maybe, he's your happy ending…you'll never find out if you never try."

"I don't think happy endings are for me, anymore," Regina whispers quietly, fully believing her words, although wishing it isn't the case.

"Oh, Regina, come on," Tink says with just a hint of exasperation, "So you'll have to sacrifice some to get your happy ending, everyone does, after all this isn't a fairytale and you're not a damsel in distress. And if you lose some, but be happy in the end with the man you love and your son…well, would that be such a terrible fate?"

"Yes," Regina exclaims, tired of all this over thinking. There is so much to lose and she cannot afford them, not even for Robin, not even for her own happiness. She already has Henry, and he makes her happy, that should be enough. "What if risking it would make me lose my son? He's all I have, without him…I would just have floated away, he saved me and I cannot lose him…not for Robin or anyone."

Tink exhales, defeated, before shaking her head. "Your heart doesn't lie, Regina," is all she says, before the conversation falls away.

 **…**

 _"_ _Your heart doesn't lie."_

Tink's words have become a mantra that keeps playing. Regina hears it in her head over and over again. And she wants to believe it, wants to believe it so badly, but she's scared, terrified. She has a lot to gain, she knows that, but she's a lot to lose, too, and it's just so risky, so frightening.

She can't afford to lose it all again just as she had before when she'd lost Daniel. She'd been honest with Tink that Henry had saved her, in so many ways, her son had, and if something she would do, something that she acts upon would backfire and make her lose him…she won't even know what to do with herself.

Sighing at the thoughts that plague her mind, she looks down at the grade sheet in front of her and tries to focus. It's not incredibly easy, there is too much she has in her mind, and so she pushes it away to fish for her phone. She dials Mary Margaret's, where her son is staying while she finishes work, so she can talk to him before she gets home. It's late, and she should have been home hours ago, but there had been a faculty meeting and she has midterms to grade. Mary Margaret's phone rings, but no one picks up.

She stops when she hears the door creak and she looks up from her phone to see who it is. Her heart stops when she sees who it is, her hands drop her phone and it makes a cluttering sound against the wood. She could hear blood rushing through her veins, loud in her ear, and she could feel her throat constrict.

"Robin," she breathes out as she stares at his form as he closes the door and walks towards her. She had fully expected the place to be deserted by now, even the janitor had bid her goodnight—but apparently not. "What are you doing here?"

Robin looks contrite, looks pained and looks frustrated all in one, and they must make a picture—her in her red dress looking tired, excited and terrified, and him in his white shirt and brown shorts, satchel over his shoulders, looking like the world is upon his shoulder.

"I'm sorry Regina," he says, and his brows furrow making her heart pound, "I know you told me to go, told me to forget you, and I've tried, I tried so hard, but I can't do it." She wanted to complain, but really, wasn't she exactly the same? "I told myself that I shouldn't, my brain said no a million times, but my heart took me here."

She shakes her head. "Robin," she whispers his name once more, a plea, a need, for him to be the sensible one, because she's losing her resolve and she no longer knows how to keep saying no when he's here, offering her everything she needs, though he's still too out of her reach. "I…We talked about this, I told you it was best to stay away…you being here, this is torture…"

"I'm sorry," he says, moving forward until he's front of her, hovering over the table and towering over her. "I have told myself to stay away over and over again, and I have, every day, but today is just not one of those days." She looks up at him with wide eyes when he moves over to where she's sitting and grabs her upper arm, pushing her up and pressing her close to him and kissing her senseless.

She thinks of fighting it, thinks of not letting this happen, but god, it's been happening even before it began, and she's not capable of pushing him away again—not this time.

Not when he's fighting for her.

* * *

 **I know it looks bleak, but there will be a happy ending, and smut is coming. Let me know if you like this. I should be posting the next installment this week! Thanks!**


	3. Three

**Finally. I hope you like it. warning for smut (though he needs it really?)**

 **This is for my panini, Shannon, because she had a bus ride from hell and i want to cheer her up and for Micki, because i don't want her to die waiting...**

 **My many many thanks to my friend Miles for all her patience and her putting up with all my crap and for being one amazing beta and trashmate. I love you, cabrona.**

 **Enjoy my dirty oq-ers.**

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

Robin downs the rest of his whiskey in one gulp, reveling in the burn that trails down his throat. He feels miserable, feels sorry for himself, feels like a cad and stupid, oh so foolish. He had known he should not have, known it is wrong to have fallen for his teacher-really this is the making of a trashy novel, but his heart had wanted what it had, and it had been too late for him to stop himself. He had fallen for her at first glance, and now Robin knows he's in too deep.

It has been weeks since he'd last been alone with her, since he'd kissed her and walked out on her, disappointed, a little angry, and a little confused with her. He's not entirely sure how to deal with any of this, only know that his heart keeps leading him to her, and he's letting it.

"You look like shit man," someone says, as they slide down the stool next to him-he had been camping at Rabbit Hole, drowning his sorrows since his son had not been around to witness and for him to fuss over, instead Roland is it a his grandparent's visiting for the weekend. "Not that you don't always, but you look exceptionally shitty today."

Robin turns to find his friend Will sitting next to him, flagging down the barkeep for a drink himself.

"Well, I feel exceptionally shitty tonight," Robin retorts, tipping up his glass for a refill. The barkeeper gives him a doubtful look, but refills his glass nonetheless and then moves away to tend to the other customers. Robin drinks half of it in one gulp.

"Oy man, slow down," Will instructs, reaching up to pull the glass from his grasp when he makes an attempt to finish all of it. "Is this about that teacher of yours again?"

A few weeks ago, when Robin had realized that he was falling for his teacher big time, he'd attempted the same thing he's attempting now-drink himself to oblivion, but Will had been there too, and he'd ended up spilling his guts to him instead of getting drunk, which admittedly felt better and left no hangover in the morning. But it had also meant that Will now knows about everything, and would never let him live it down (that isn't entirely true, Will would, if he knows it would truly bother Robin).

"Regina, yes," Robin answers, putting the glass down on the table and shaking his head, before taking a deep breath. "Remember when Marian got pregnant, and how our parents had been against us marrying, how her parents specifically didn't want it to happen because..."

And Will, with a roll of his eyes, continues with, "You were no good for her, but she'd made up her mind and told her parents and yours that you were keeping your child and marrying...She said that it didn't matter what her parents thought, or yours, and she said, 'there's good in him Will, and I believe it, especially since he doesn't believe himself." Will breathes out and Robin deflates. "I have lost love before, Robin, lost many people too, but I believe that if you're lucky enough to find love again you fight for it, every day."

"It will ruin our lives, to fight for it," Robin protests, though he no longer really believes that, no longer _wants_ to believe that. "What if it isn't worth it?"

"If you're lucky enough to find the one you're willing to ruin your entire life for," Will quips, knowing exactly what has been on his mind even if he hadn't said the words, "it's always worth it."

Regina is worth fighting for.

Their love is worth it.

 **...**

It is what he believes in as he stands in front of her now, in Room 23, looming over her and staring at her like she's the oasis and he's the man stuck in the middle of the desert, like she's his last breath.

Robin feels it, the heaviness of the moment, the tension in the air, it's so real, he could cut it with a knife. He stares at her now, sees the trepidation in her eyes, sees the war waging between her mind and heart and he wants nothing more than to tell her to pick him, to choose love over her worries, but he can't, can only speak for himself, and for what he feels.

But words are overrated, words have failed them again and again, so he grabs her, holds her by her upper arms and pulls her up as he says, "today is not one of those days," before he is pressing his lips against hers, kissing her as if he won't kiss her again, like this is the last night he'll get to do this, and maybe it is, perhaps this _is_ the last time, and this should count, this should be it.

Robin pulls her closer, as close as he had when they had been kissing in the library, only now his heart is more open, he's leaving it out there, and where he'd wanted to show her what she'd been missing when he kissed her weeks ago, now he just wants her to feel how much he _loves_ her, how much she can take without the need to give because she _is_ enough, because she is _his_ second chance and he's just about willing to give it all for her.

"Robin," she moans as she breaks away from their kiss. Her hands are under his shirt, mapping out the planes of his chest and stomach while his are holding her waist, pushing her impossibly closer. He feels her stiffen into his arms, and his heart stops its erratic beating, surprised, confused (he had literally felt her melt into his arms when they had been kissing, felt her surrender the fight). "This...what we have..."

He pants even as he shakes his head, and he pulls her closer again, burying his nose to the crook of her neck, wanting to fill his senses with her essence and drown himself in her heady scent. "Is real. My feelings for you _are_ real. I love you, Regina. I am _in love_ with you, and I know you don't want to hear it, perhaps because it only hurts more, but it's the truth. _I_ love you."

He watches her eyes get glassy with tears, tears that she holds back, but cannot as a traitorous one slips free, "I'm terrified," she whispers, the first slip of her mask. "We have so much to lose if we get caught..."

Robin shakes his head, inching his hand up higher until it lands at the base of her skull, and he leans in, their noses brushing, breaths mingling, "Sshhh, we are here now, and this is true."

He can physically see the moment she fully surrenders to him, to their feelings, can literally see that moment she gives in. His arms tighten around her as he stares deeper into her eyes, pulling her closer until their bodies are as one as their souls.

And he kisses her, with gentleness this time, kisses her with no less passion than the first time. He fills her with the love that pours out of him through his kisses, his tongue peeking out to probe against her lips and then slides into her parted mouth and against her own. She tastes great, tastes like heaven and sin, tastes like cinnamon and mint and apple and everything that screams home, and he loves it, loves her more than he could ever attempt to describe.

Her breath hitches when his hand slide down to cup her bottom, squeezing her left cheek, making her moan a laugh into his mouth that makes him smile. He pushes against her until her hip hits the table lightly and lifts her up onto to it, hiking her red dress up so she could spread her legs open.

Her mouth parts as he skims his fingers up the length of her shoulder, to the blades, up to her cheek, where she tilts her head and looks up at him with hooded eyes. He moves a little bit, just enough to remove her dress from the upper half of her body, letting it pool on her waist, and he cannot help but run the pads of his index finger down the valley of her breasts. She breathes a little heavier, licks her lips and opens her thighs wider.

He stops there, for a minute, just one moment to stare at the beauty before him, to stare at this precious woman he's finally holding, after everything. She is so beautiful, so breathtaking that he falters for one moment, feels himself still at the shock of it all, at the disbelief that runs through his veins because this, this is finally happening.

"God," he breathes, his voice laced with sincerity, "you are so beautiful." And then he's moving again to kiss her, his hands falling to the table so he can brace herself. He is vaguely aware of the fact that someone might walk in on them here, but at this point he doesn't, can't really care—he's holding a goddess in his arms.

Regina moans as he slides his tongue inside her mouth once again, fingers reaching up to clumsily fiddle with his buttons until they are loose, and then she pushes his shirt over his head until it's off before she throws it over her head, letting it fall onto the ground to be found later-right now, neither of them cares. He lifts his hands just enough to unclasp her bra, and then throws the garment just like she had, haphazardly behind his shoulder.

His hands immediately find the supple flesh, he squeezes, thumb flickering against her puckered nub, and then he's pinching it, eliciting a moan from her that comes from deep her throat-sounding more like a growl-and he does it again, though he can't really resist, so he breaks away from her to attach his mouth to the rosy peak. He nips, nibbles, licks and sucks to his heart's content, until she's arching her back and his hand is pushing his head closer to her breasts. He acquiesces to her silent request and sucks more vigorously, sucks harder, before he moves on to the other, giving it the same attention. He only stops when she pushes him away, lifts his head to give her a roguish smile. She shakes her head at him and smiles at him a silly smile that makes his heart lurch, makes his heart dance a jig inside his chest. The moment hits him them, how real this is, just as he's told her, and he has the biggest urge to do a dance out of the sheer joy he feels, but he resists, instead he begins to worship every part of her.

She sprawls over the table, and he hovers over her, staring into her eyes-the eyes he's sure he was born to gaze into.

"I love you," he whispers against the soft skin of the swells of her breast, placing a sucking kiss there, before he looks at her to let her realize how real and how sincere his words are.

"I know," Regina whispers, bringing him back to that day in the library, but this time she's smiling at him with softness and sincerity that makes him want to hold her forever and never ever let her go. "I feel it, too." She whispers her words but it rings in the quiet so loudly.

His heart expands three times its size. And by god, he wants her to feel the way he does now, so he kisses down her body again, trailing his tongue down the length of her torso and flicking against the soft skin just under her navel, making her writhe. Her hips buck up when he kisses and nips at the skin where her thighs and pelvis join, hand coming down to push him where she needs him the most, but he pushes her hand away, taking it in his and holds it tight. She mewls in protest, lets out a ragged _Robin_ , but he pays her no mind, continues to kiss his way up and down her body. He moves up, hands still clasped with hers-bringing it over her head and holding it there as he kisses her once more.

"I want to taste you," he says, but it's more of a request, a plea.

Regina nods as she bites her lower lip, and he smiles, moving down again and kneeling before the table, he spreads her legs wider, inching his head forward to bury his nose to her sex, inhaling the heady scent of her. She's wet, so wet and so hot and good God! He'd willing bury his mouth in her, spend days there loving, exploring, tasting, nipping, _feasting_ on her. He does exactly just that now, sucks on _her_ , before he uses his thumb to pull her skin upwards, exposing to him her little bundle of oversensitive nerves, and he licks, once, twice, and then another, making her trash her head around and mewl with heat. And then he sucks softly on her clit, and she thrusts her hips into the air.

His hands grabs her hips now, holds her down, before he descends on her sex once more, licking and sucking on her clit, moving his flattened tongue down to run all over her slit, thrusting it in over and over, simulating what he plans to do to her later with a _different_ , _harder_ part of his anatomy. Her hand comes down to grasp the strands of his hair, pulling, as she asks for more, more, _please Robin_ , _God_ , _please_.

He cannot deny her anything (except perhaps when she asks him to stay away) and so he gives her more, sucks harder, licks more furiously, thrusts faster and then uses three fingers to slide inside her and pump when she says it's not enough, until she's moving her hips in rhythm with his movements.

"Robin," she screams, the sound ripping from her throat, and as much as he loves the sounds she's making, he wishes no one hears her but him. "Oh God." She trembles all around him and then she's panting, breaths coming in and out in rapid succession.

He licks at her still, laps up every single drop that drips out of her. He only stops when she pushes his head away with a shaky hand. He looks up at her with a grin, and she shakes her head playfully smiling at him and looking so satisfied, it makes him proud of himself, but more so, makes him want to please him more.

"Regina," he whispers her name as he hovers over her once more, "has anyone ever told you, you're a goddess?"

She flushes even more, and it's a wonder because he's already pretty flushed, and smiles shyly at him. She looks away and shakes her head. "You're the first," she tells him.

"Then anyone who hasn't told you are fools, and don't deserve to be in your presence," he says with as much sincerity as he feels, and it makes her giggle shyly, looking further away to hide her embarrassed look. He tips her chin to face him, and he smiles softly at her. "I mean it, you're beautiful."

He knows of her scars, granted not all of them and not in detail, just the ones that slip when they had been talking but he knows her heart, knows of her struggles-knows of a mother who had failed to appreciate her, of people who had used her, broke her-he knows her, knows her better because she is just like him. They have been tainted by their pasts, bruised and broken, but they survived, and now they're here, in this moment, alive and trying to mend each other—together

"You make me feel beautiful," she admits, tears gathering at her lashes but not falling, he caresses her cheek, "When you look at me...with love in your eyes, it makes me feel more than what I am. You make me feel worth it."

"You are worth it, Regina, and so much more," he assures her before he kisses her again, knowing that words can sometimes not be enough and he needs to show her, needs to let her know how much she truly means to him, that she can see herself as nothing but to him she is everything.

His hands roam down her body mapping out every curve and crevice, burning it to memory, just as hers do, actually managing to unclasp his pants and remove his boxers (she uses her toes to ease it down his hips and he doesn't know why exactly, but the movement is so incredibly hot) with what little space there is between them. She mutters an entirely unapologetic ' _oops'_ when it falls to the floor with a soft slithering sound. He wants to chuckle, but it comes out as a hoarse sound when he feels her fingers wrap around his hardened cock -it's so hard it almost hurts. He needs to be inside her now, but her needs and wants always come first with his.

Her grin is evil when she pumps it up and down, and it feels so, _so_ fucking good he is genuinely concerned he might unload before he even buries himself between her. Her thumb massages the head of his shaft, making him throw his head back from the sheer pleasure that runs through his body at the feeling.

He lets out a strangled plead, "Regina." And she chuckles in return, his evil minx actually chuckles, rising up to sit so she could kiss him senseless as her fingers work their magic on his hard cock.

He isn't able to make any more coherent thoughts, isn't able to even hold his leg up as she pumps faster and harder, up and down until he's moving his hips in tune to her pumping hands. His hand grips her waist, while the other comes to hold her by her nape and he kisses her senseless, tongue thrusting in and out of her mouth. He lets the other one trail down her hips to her cunt once more, flicking against her clit, making her lift her lift herself off the desk. She moves away however, and shifts them so he's the one leaning against the desk and she's kneeling in front of him, making his eyes widen for he knows what's coming, and oh fuck, he'd give everything to feel her mouth around his cock.

She gives however, without taking, opens her mouth and sucking his shaft in, licking the satiny head before kissing the underside. She bobs her head up and down, sucking him as she goes, making him feel pleasure and making him feel the torture of the need to come but knowing he can't, not yet, not until he's buried balls deep inside of her, and her cunt is milking every single inch of his rock hard cock.

But he needs that now, so he pulls her up by her arm. She lets a single mewl of protest at the loss of his member from her greedy mouth, but she smirks when he places her before him, folding her over so that her upper body is bending over the table. He traces his finger down the curve of her shapely ass, pinching her cheek, making her squeal, before he soothes it with the pads of his fingers.

"Robin please," she says heatedly, though her voice is soft.

He doesn't say anything to that, only nods and positions himself behind her. He moves her leg a bit, instructs her to spread it a bit wider, and when she does, he slips inside her easily-her slick heat welcoming and gripping his cock instantly.

She is heaven, feels like heaven, and he tells her so, tells her how good it feels to be inside her as he thrusts inside her hard and fast. She asks for more, hands grabbing his and leading to her front so he could fondle her clit. She holds on to the other one and guides it over to her breast, and together they cup her tits and squeeze her nipples. The moan that escapes them both, synchronized.

He moves faster and harder now, feeling her tighten around him, and he knows that she's coming, she's coming hard. She even says so _, please Robin, I'm coming, fuck me, fuck me harder, baby._

He is going as hard and as fast as he can, the desk under them even rattles at his efforts, but he ups it a notch, for her, whispering that he's got her, and that he'll make her come hard, so hard, or die trying.

He rasps another _I love you_ to her, and that seems to do it, because one thrust later she's screaming his name, her cunt milking his cock as she rides every wave of her orgasm.

He's not done with her though, so he flips her over, lifts over her desk and drapes her legs over his shoulder before slipping back into her (her loud moan sounding more than just a little pleased with his actions) and then pounding it to her, deep, hard and fast, the sound of skin slapping against skin riling him up. Robin's grunts blend in with her loud pleasured moans, and his grip on her tightens, his thrust becoming more erratic and sloppy, and he feels so much like a mad man as he pounds into her cunt with heat and passion until everything's too much. Until her slick tight heat drives him insane, her bouncing tits become too much and one roll of his hips later he comes in her, spills inside of her and she comes along with him-their names a grunt on each other's lips.

It takes a while for them both to regain their breath and surroundings, but when they do, they look at each other in amazement, awed by what they had just shared. He leans in and kisses her breath away again, holding her cooling body against his sweat slicked one, his hand rubbing her back up and down.

She smiles teasingly at him, saying, "Look who's finally come down from his high."

Robin chuckles, shakes his head and bites his lip. "I apologize milady, but that was the best... _out of class lecture_ I've ever had," he teases back, earning a laugh and a smack from her.

She laughs though, and the sound is like magic to his ears, and he smiles softly, pulls her close and kisses her again, vowing to never let her go.

* * *

 **So there's that. Please let me know what you think! Next chapter will be the last!**


	4. Four

**YAY! After 95 years, I have finally managed an update. This is sadly, the last chapter. I'm sad, but all things come to an end. It's gonna be a roller coaster ride so hold on you guys! Anyway, no more chitchat, here we go! Thank you all so much for reading this! Until next time!**

 _Unbeta-ed, so apologies for the mistakes._

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

Robin admittedly has some great expectations for the next class with Regina, well, er _Professor Mills_ —though it's hard to think of her anymore as anyone more than just Regina after the intimacy they've shared. He tries, though, because she's still a professional, and he's loathe to cause her any undue trouble just because he's being stupid and makes a slip.

He walks to her lecture class with high spirits, happy to be able to see her after two days of not seeing each other. He'd been busy and hadn't been able to do more than to send her a brief message that he'll be spending the weekend studying and tutoring his son that he might not be in touch but that he misses her and he loves her. She'd only replied with a brief _'Alright, have a great weekend'_ , and he tries not to take it heart, knowing she's just as busy as he.

But when he walks into her class Monday extra early and extra prepared (his hair needed that tiny bit of gel he's put on it, really), it is needless to say that he's also been extra disappointed to find out that she won't be attending the class, and has instead sent Miss Belle French—a young woman who is also a part time lecturer in the department.

He'd been so disheartened the whole day that he'd been unable to focus very well. His mind is constantly running, wondering if he's done anything to have tipped her off or offend her or hurt her. Though it is a very real possibility that something might have just come up and she'd needed the time off, then those very thoughts would lead to the disappointment that she won't even tell him. But then he'd think that she definitely doesn't owe him anything, not an explanation or justification about her actions, and if she needs a day off she's entitled to it without him having to know about it.

It's just knowing would have been nice. In fact, hearing from her at all would have been nice, really.

But she's Regina, she's her own person and she does what she wants when she wants, and he's not terribly disappointed, he shouldn't be, at least.

He shouldn't be, he tells himself, yet there's still a pang in his chest when he thinks about it.

A slight, slight pang that he tells himself he can ignore, if he just tries hard enough.

 **...**

Regina Mills is no coward.

Nope.

But when it comes to facing Robin, you can bet that she's the biggest coward the world has ever seen.

It's not that she doesn't want to see him, because she does (his beautiful eyes and his bright smile, those dimples that peek whenever he grins or smirks or laughs, amongst other things). It's just that she doesn't know what to say if she does see him. What had happened between them that one night had been wonderful and pleasurable, and she's pretty sure it's the stuff made out of dreams, but at the end of the day, she's still his teacher and he's still her student and though a relationship between them won't necessarily put her in jail because he's of age, it might still jeopardize her job and that isn't something she can deal with.

Besides, she's far too deep in this to be able to face him and not screw this up. She knows she already is, and she knows that it is what she is good at, but she can't help it. She's been burned by love and the idea of having something so great, so beautiful—she can't believe that. She's spent the past few years believing that all she needs is her son, and he's all she'll ever have, that this-this is completely alien and unreal. If it had been a little less complicated, she'd be inclined that it is unreal, but that might be asking for too much.

So now she's here, in this place between wanting to be brave and taking what her heart truly desires, and what she wants and could make her happy. She wonders, not for the first time, why the easy thing can be the thing that makes someone happy.

And though she's told herself so many times that she can't be like this just for a man, that she shouldn't be, that all the hard work that women from the past had put in to gain the liberties she enjoys now, she falls victim into the same curse every woman of the patriarchal society that allows no room for a woman to flourish. She calls in sick for work and leaves it to them to find her a substitute for the day as she wallows in pity and regret, and maybe a bit of shame.

She falls into the curse of love.

 **...**

He's fallen into the curse of love—he's fallen in love with a woman, and though it's obvious that she feels something for him, too, she's too afraid to deal with it. And if she's not willing to take that step with him, then there isn't much for him to do. He cannot possibly force her to anything, he loved and respected her enough.

Besides, the woman he loves is a woman of her own, trying to tell her what to do won't really go down well with her. But damn, he wishes he could just tell her to stop being afraid and she'd listen. Then maybe love can stop being a curse but something beautiful, something that they can both share and bask in.

But well, no, this is not how this works. Not with her anyway.

It's difficult to keep loving her and having that love thrown back into his face, and he wonders if he should just give up, should just let it go and stop fighting when she obviously doesn't want him to keep doing so.

Every week, he sees her, every week he sits in her class and watches her as she talks about literature and everything that Robin can't seem to find it in himself to care about anymore. It's not the right outlook to any of this, and he doesn't necessarily agree with his heart in this regard, but what should he do? His heart is stronger than his mind. And though he tells himself to stay away, it's hard to.

And he tells himself that he's better than nights of drunken stupor over some woman (not just _any_ woman though, the woman of his dreams, Regina Mills), and that he has a child to think about and he can't just go about getting drunk when he has him to take care of, but it's hard to remember all of that when once more, she ignores him, doesn't let him have a word when he tries to get her to talk to him after their classes, doesn't respond to any of his attempts at talking this out, and it's been weeks, it has been bloody weeks and he's going insane!

"Robin, maybe you're giving it much more meaning than there is to it?" Will asks him one night when he'd asked him to accompany him to the Rabbit Hole for another night of drinking himself to oblivion, and hopefully numbness. It sometimes strikes him as odd where he finds the strength to attend classes when he gets so drunk like this, but years of practice have gotten him well versed in the art of hangovers.

Robin pauses, his hand falling flat onto the table from where it had been gripping the pint of beer, and he looks at his friend, struck by his words. The pain sits heavily on his chest and for a moment he doesn't know what to do or how to breathe, because he's never thought of it that way, has always thought that she felt the same way as he had that night. He hadn't once paused to consider that it might not mean as much to her.

"I mean, maybe she did find you attractive, maybe she did like you, but maybe she didn't feel as strongly, maybe she just wanted to know how it felt, and now that she had then she's done," Will continues, and for a moment Robin gets the urge to sock him in the jaw, because no, Regina isn't like that, he knows it. She'd not been with her just for the thrill of it, he knows, knows her that much.

But then, does he really?

"I don't know," Robin murmurs. He grips his glass and brings it up to his lips for another long gulp as he tries not to cry like a baby at this current predicament he's found himself in. He's supposed to be better than this, but then, how could he, when he feels worse than he's ever had.

"Maybe it's time to let go, man," Will says, and he's right, maybe it is, but it doesn't help his heart, not by an inch.

Robin doesn't say anything, only stares ahead and sighs, his head falling helplessly as his heart breaks and breaks inside his chest, and he thinks that the sound of his heart shattering is way too loud and that everyone around him would hear it—that it would stop their world just as it did his, but he finds that no it isn't loud, no one hears him, and no one's world stops at his heartbreak—no one, but his.

 **..**

But maybe, he thinks, just maybe Will is right. He doesn't really know why he thinks so, when the last advise the man had given him had blown up in his face big time, but maybe he's right. Maybe it is time to let go.

Maybe it is time to let _her_ go.

It had been wonderful, that night he'd been allowed to love her in the way he wants to, he'd been allowed to show her exactly how much he does love her, but that's over now, and she wants nothing more to do with him.

It's obvious.

And he's not stupid, he can take a hint.

So on a Friday evening, when he knows her last class ends at eight pm, he stalks to her classroom. He is assaulted by memories of the last time they had been left alone in the evening, but he stamps that down, because he's already going to rip his heart out, no need to torture himself some more.

He opens the door just in time, finding her still inside, collecting some papers. She looks so goddamn beautiful that his chest aches. And then she looks up, and her eyes widen, then they harden and he knows that he should be very, very afraid, but he can't find it in himself to feel anything but pain.

"We need to talk," Robin tells her before she can get a word out, and he locks the door behind him, and maybe he wants more than just talk, but he also knows that it's not in the cards.

"Why am I getting a sense of déjà vu?" she asks, her tone low and sarcastic, and she doesn't even _try_ to look at him.

It breaks his heart, but at least he knows that he's doing the right thing.

He walks over towards her, ignoring her words. He feels anger swirling inside him, running through his veins, but he tries to calm down. After all, this is the woman he loves, and there is nothing more in this world that he wants than to see her happy.

Obviously, he can't give her that.

"I'm not here to..." he begins but trails off as images of their night together assault him, and he almost wishes he's dead than doing this. "I just want to talk. I know you've been ignoring me. I know you don't want to talk about it. It's been weeks Regina, and if I hadn't been able to take a hint the first few days, then I certainly have now."

"So what else are you doing here?" she asks him coldly, though she still refuses to meet his eyes.

"I'm just here to..." he breathes and tries not to show her the tears he knows will fall soon. He's a weak, weak man, and he loves her too much that this feels like someone is ripping his soul in half. "I'm just here to ask you to sign this." He hands her a piece of paper, and watches as she scans it quickly.

Her head snaps up and then she's staring at him with wide, wild eyes. She looks about ready to murder him, but he's not entirely sure he has anything left for her to murder.

"No, Robin, you can't do this," she says, her voice high and almost pleading. And he doesn't understand why. Isn't this what she wanted?

And wouldn't it be so much easier?

"I need to," he tells her. And he believes that he really does.

"But this is your dream, Robin, you can't," she says and it's almost like she's pleading with him. "I'm not going to get together with you even if you move schools." There is a cold glint in her eyes.

"I know that," he concedes, because he knows that. He knows that she won't be with him whatever he does, that she doesn't love him, and it won't matter what he does. "I'm not doing this in hopes that you'd agree to seeing me and being with me. I might have deluded myself with that idea before, but I know better now. I'm not doing this for that."

"Then why are you doing this?" she asks, her voice raises and her eyes wide.

"Because! Because it's not as fucking easy for me to stand there and look at you knowing that you don't love me the way I love you. Because I can't keep seeing you and pining for you, knowing you don't even care, Regina. I can't keep telling myself to stop loving you when you're there—so beautiful and wonderful and stunning and bold and audacious, and I can't keep hurting myself like this. You obviously want me to let you go, so that's what I'm doing."

She's silent, only looks down, away from him, and he moves towards her, using his fingers to tilt her chin up so she is looking at him.

"I love you, Regina, and loving you means accepting the fact that you don't...I choose you, over everything, over dreams and wonderful futures because I don't want a future without you in it, but I can't force you to choose me too, so I'm going to make this easy for the both of us, and I'm letting you go."

He lets her go then and moves away, before he watches her sign the paper he'd presented her with. Her hands are shaking while his heart is pounding. This is it, after this it's final, and though he doesn't want it to be, it's for the best.

She shoves the paper to his chest and then walks away towards the door. Before he could stop himself however, he's grabbing her back and kissing her senseless. His hands cup the sides of her head and for a moment he revels in the kiss, revels in the feeling of him and her breathing as one. He feels like soaring, like his soul found a home in hers, but then the kiss is ending, she's pushing him away and she's leaving.

She's not there to see his tears, but still they fall.

 **...**

Her tears fall nonstop. She doesn't want them to, but still they fall. And she's exhausted.

It's getting exhausting.

It's getting exhausting to shut out the sound of her heart telling her that this is wrong, that she's wrong, that she's making a big mistake by pushing Robin away. But she doesn't know any other way. She can't risk her job, his education and their sons for something as weak as love.

But love _isn't_ weakness. It can't be when she's never felt stronger and better than she's ever had when she'd been in Robin's arms and he'd been loving her in the ways that she's never believed possible.

And it doesn't seem like such a thing for the weak to give up someone because you loved them too much to ruin their life.

Yet...

She just wants a happy ending.

Why can't it be simple?

Regina sighs as she hears the door of her house open. It's a Saturday and her son had asked for a sleep over at his buddy's, and she couldn't possibly say no to him, considering how bad of a company she'd been lately. She hadn't wanted to be a grouch, to let her son know about the pain she's feeling, but he's perceptive and she'd thought that maybe putting some distance between his perception and her raw feelings would be a good idea.

So, she knows it won't be her son (he'd call her first, of course and ask to be picked up if he needed to), so she knows exactly who it would be.

"Mary Margaret," she mutters in disdain as the woman appears at the entrance of her kitchen, looking like a sad puppy even when it's Regina who's heart is broken. She shakes her head at her step sister's disapproving look, and just brings her glass wine to her lips to take a sip.

"Regina," Mary Margaret says, already crossing the distance between them. Regina doesn't recall inviting her, but that never stops her step sister anyway. "How are you feeling?"

"How do you think?" she spats, instantly regretting it at the look that flashes across Mary Margaret's face. She doesn't want to lash out, but the words are out before she can think of them.

"I know you're not okay, but if you really feel this bad, why don't you go ahead and be with him. It's not like you're doing anything wrong," she says and Regina scoffs at the thought, because of course, Mary Margaret would have a never ending supply of optimism.

"I don't recall inviting you to give me a hope speech," Regina snaps. "Save it for someone who cares."

"Oh come on, Regina," Mary Margaret sighs. "I just want to be here for you."

"Yes, I know that and I appreciate it," Regina says, her tone softening as she looks at her step sister's wide, doe eyes. "But I just...I want to wallow in self pity and find a way to get over it... _him."_

Mary Margaret is quiet for a while, and they sit there both in silence as time ticks away.

"I know it's complicated Regina," she says, and Regina rolls her eyes. She can't even begin to fathom exactly how complicated it is. "But...you can't lose hope that things will get better! You can have a happy ending, Regina. I believe that you can."

"What happy ending?" Regina asks condescendingly. "It's not true. There are no happy endings." She pauses and breathes, tries not to cry, but knows that she would, soon, feels the tears prickling. "Do you know that he's left the University? Transferred to another one because being around me hurts him too much! I'd been trying to protect his dreams, my job, and our sons, but it seems I'm just ruining everything."

"But wouldn't this be easier?" Mary Margaret asks, looking at her deeply. "He's moved to another school, now you won't have to worry about your job or him being getting kicked out of school for fraternizing with his teacher." She smiles. "It seems that you're even closer to your happy ending than you think. You just need to open your heart and grab it."

"It was his dream, Mary Margaret!" Regina exclaims, feeling upset that no one is seeing this her way. "I can't be so selfish to take this away from him. I can't let him give it up just for me!"

"But he already has," her step sister says, grabbing her hand and sighing. "Your happy ending may not be what you expect. That is what will make it so special."

Regina looks back at her sister and sighs, thinking that maybe, maybe she's right.

 **..**

She knows it's crazy.

This might not go the way she's planned, but it's basically now or never. She needs to do this now or she'll miss out on the chance for a happy ending if she let her fear get to her again.

And she can't let that happen.

So on a Monday, just after class, she makes a dash for the edge of the forest in the campus, not caring if she's wearing four inch pumps on this particular day (she'll regret it later, but not now). She knows he'll be there, she just knows it, and she doesn't know why, but she's sure.

So she runs towards the forest, silently praying that she's right. She sighs in relief when she finds him sitting on a log, looking lost. That breaks her heart, but she consoles herself with the fact that she's here to remedy that, if he'd let her.

"You're an underhanded thief, Robin Locksley," she exclaims, and it's clear that she startles him. It makes her chuckle inside, though she tries to hide that with a stone cold exterior. He looks up at her in a mixture of shock and confusion, but she only continues to walk over to him. "You shocked me into signing those damned papers."

"What?" he asks, confused and she smirks, confusing him further.

"I love you too, you know," she tells him once she's standing there before him. She knows she's floored him with that confession, and he absolutely looks it, but for once she revels on the feeling of finally being able to say it to him.

"Regina—," he begins but she doesn't let him when she kneels before him and takes his lips in a heated kiss that has him grabbing her waist and pulling her closer. She slips her tongue inside, eliciting a moan from him that goes straight to his core.

When she pulls away, they're both panting.

"I'm sorry," she says, whispering the words as though it's a beautiful secret meant only for them. "I'm sorry I made you feel like I didn't love you. I did, I _do._ More than my own life, and I was so scared, so scared that loving you meant ruining your life. I never thought I'd have this, you know? I didn't believe that I could. The last man I loved, he died, and I felt like...everything I touched, everyone I loved, I ruin, and I can't do that to you. I loved you too much."

Robin is speechless, is only looking at her in awe, like he can't quite believe what's happening.

"I choose you, too," she murmurs as she loops her arms around his neck and clings to him, burying her nose on his skin. "I love you, I want to be with you, and I choose you."

He pulls back just enough to look her in the eyes. "Regina?" he asks.

"I love you," she says again because now that she's said it, she can't stop. "I love you and I want to be with you. It isn't going to be easy, but we'll make it." She leans in to kiss him again. "I'm with you."

"Always," he murmurs, lifting her in his arms until she's sitting across his lap, and he seals in this promise with a kiss.

* * *

 **A/N2: I know you guys were probably wanting smut, but I honestly couldn't fit it in, sorry. Hope you liked it regardless. Anyway, Milenys told me that I should tell you that I'm opening this universe for prompts. So if you guys want anything in this universe, let me know! (I doubt anyone would request anything, but I should still let you know). Let me know what you guys thought!**


	5. Five

**In participation with Holly's idea to post OQ stories on the Sunday that Once gets back, here I am! I hope you like it! This is based on a prompt by** ** _sailingships._** **Thanks for the prompt!**

 **Enjoy darlings!**

 **Unbeta-ed, sorry! All mistakes are mine.**

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

It isn't necessarily a secret—their relationship. And if it is, then it's the worst kept one.

Ever since Robin had moved to NYU from Columbia, and Regina finally accepting the fact that she can't run away from what she feels for him and what he feels for her, they'd been more open about their relationship. They don't necessarily scream it out to the rooftops, not necessarily tells everyone that they are together, but they don't deny it when asked. But they had introduced each other to each other's son, and that had gone swimmingly—both boys had become fast friends, bonding over comics and superheroes.

It had been a blissful few months of them being together, with play dates and dinner dates, and sneaking off from their kids to have some alone time together. It was great, Regina felt loved and she felt free to love, and really, all in all, there was nothing to complain about. In fact, she had every reason to be happy, which she is.

That is until she'd come to pick Robin up at NYU after a long day. They are going out that night for a date (his insistence), and instead of him having to pick her up, and then schlep them both back to the restaurant when it was the other way from Columbia, she offered to pick him up instead.

He'd texted her about half an hour ago, saying he was just in the library, doing the last bit of homework he could do before their night. She walked to the campus library, wary of the fact that this isn't exactly her turf, but feeling ridiculous as she thought so. It isn't like she's snooping, or anything as stupid as that…sometimes, her fantasies really do just run wild.

She fishes her phone from her bag and dials Robin's number as she nears the library. She places the little device against her ear, and waits as it rings, and rings. Robin doesn't pick up however, and when she looks at the entrance of the building, she realizes why.

Her heart stops, and her blood runs cold, and for a moment, she doesn't know what to do.

She watches as her boyfriends stands at the entrance, talking to another woman, his hand resting against her shoulder. Regina won't have minded, it could be very innocent, she's known Robin to be very affectionate, always initiating body contact, even in the smallest form, and she trusts Robin, except, the woman leans over him to give him a tight hug and a peck on the cheek that from Regina's perspective, seemed to linger more than necessary.

Regina tries to reason with herself—they could be old friends. It isn't uncommon for a woman to be kissing a friend's cheek. Hell she does it—to her brother in law, David, and had seen Robin's friends do it—with Ana, Will's girlfriend. That woman, with her slender body showcased by the clothes (or the lack thereof) that she's wearing, and her blonde locks, and red lips—she could just be an old friend.

And Regina almost believes that, until the woman moves back and then forward, to press her lips against Robin's.

The world starts to spin on its axis, and Regina feels like there are walls closing in around her, even when she stands at a very open space.

She couldn't breathe.

And she thinks back to the days prior, of how he's been so distant lately, and how he smells of another woman's perfume, and how…well she'd ignored the signs and turned a blind eye to them because she'd been under the impression that they were, _are_ , blissfully happy.

Boy, is she wrong.

She wonders now how she could have fallen for it, how she could have let herself believe that there is a second chance at love for her after Daniel. She isn't the kind of person who gets second chances or happy endings, and to be honest, Henry is enough. He should have been. Asking for a companion had been a shot to the moon, and she'd been dead wrong.

There's a voice at the back of her head that maybe she's taking all of this out of context, but she doesn't listen to that, not now, not when she's trying not to fall over as she runs away from the scene, from her boyfriend….from everything.

She makes her way to the car with no accidents, and drives away, not bothering to give Robin a call or anything. She drives home while tears pour from her eyes, and for a moment she gives a silent thanks to her sixteen year old self who had mastered the art of crying and driving without crashing.

When she gets home, she calls her sister, asks if she could keep Henry all night (because she can't let her son see her like this), and when Mary Margaret teases her that of course, she's already planned on that since she knows Regina either won't be able to make it home, or won't want her son around for the after date activities, Regina barely manages to choke back her sob (the image of Robin's lips pressed against that blonde playing over and over again in her head like a broken record, managing to break her heart repeatedly), and says she'll pick her son up in the morning. If Mary Margaret finds anything odd about the way she sounds or about her actions, she doesn't bother to find out as she puts the phone down and takes it off the hook. She even turns her cell phone off, knowing Robin would try to reach out and ask her why she hadn't gone to pick him up. She doesn't know how to tell him that she'd caught him on the act, cheating.

It's all a mess, and the rest of the night becomes a blur, because try as she might, Regina couldn't resist the call of alcohol. She needs to bury her feelings, bury them deep down where she can't see them, until she's on her own, or she has to face it again. She doesn't want to fall apart, most especially in front of her son.

Her son.

His son.

What do they tell them now?

Maybe she's being drastic, she tells herself as she drowns another glass of whisky (and god, even her drink reminds her of him), maybe there's an explanation to all of this—but how does one explain a kiss like that, without spelling out that he's found someone else?

There is no way, she decides, and then takes to the bottle of whisky, pouring herself glass after glass, until drinking from the glass felt too tiresome that she just drank straight from the bottle. She doesn't know how much she'd had to drink, and she didn't have the time to find out, as she passed out, drunk, on her kitchen floor, lying down, just under her island counter.

 **…**

He isn't sure what happened.

Regina is supposed to pick him up, but she hadn't showed up, and he'd tried to call her but her cell phone is off, and her telephone seemed to be disconnected. He'd been worried at first, then that worry turned to anger, then to panic, to anger, before finally shifting to deflation because it's apparent that she's avoiding him.

And for the life of him he cannot figure out why.

So on a bright and early Saturday morning, he makes his way to his house after leaving his son in the (hopefully) capable hands of Will. He doesn't know what he'll find, so even when Roland had begged to see Henry and his Regina, Robin had decided not to bring him.

When he finally made it to Regina's house, he'd sat in his car for a few minutes just to gather his courage. For all he knows, Regina could have just forgotten, but Regina's memory is as sharp as her tongue, and it's hard to believe that she would forget. They already have very precious little time together and they'd talked about her coming to get him that day. He feels something might have gone wrong, and he just doesn't know what it could be.

When he finally gathers enough courage, he gets out of his car and walks down the cobbled steps that lead to her door. He raises his hand and knocks on the door, but after a few knocks, she still doesn't open the door. His heart races, and he moves his hand down to grasp the brass knob and turns it. When he finds it unlocked, his panic intensifies. What if someone had broken in and hurt her?

Oh god.

He doesn't even want to know, can't even imagine.

He runs inside and calls her name wildly, but receives no response. He walks to the kitchen but finds it empty. He is about to go upstairs when he notices a pair of feet just behind the island counter, and he walks there to find his girlfriend passed out. He feels as though blood has drained out of his system as he runs over and picks her up in his arms. He checks for injuries and sighs in relief when he finds nothing. It is then that he finds the bottle of whisky that's rolled over on to the side. He leans just a little bit to sniff her, and sure enough, she reeks of alcohol.

Sighing, and trying to figure out what went wrong and why she'd drunk herself to stupor, he stands up and carries her up to her bedroom. He lays her down the bed and works on getting her clothes off to make her more comfortable—it's obvious that she just went straight for the whisky without bothering with changing her clothes. When he's sure that she's a bit more comfortable, he makes his way downstairs to get her a glass of water and some aspirin for when she wakes up. He also makes her some food that he keeps warm in the oven, and then goes back up to wait for her to wake.

 **…**

When Regina wakes up, it's to fingers running through her hair and a marching band beating inside her skull.

She tries to open her eyes, and is coaxed by a soothing voice she cannot place in her sleep and alcohol addled mind. When she does however, the events of yesterday come back to her, and she feels the sharp stinging pain in her chest again, and she rolls away from the hand as far as she can as though they have personally offended her.

She even tries to get out of bed but finds that with the hangover, that task is impossible to do. So she huffs and tries to push down the feeling rising from her stomach into her throat. Without a word, she is handed a glass of water and a couple of advil, which she downs quickly. She closes her eyes and waits a little bit for her mind to feel a little bit more balanced before she opens them back again and stares at the confused pool of blue eyes staring back at her.

Yeah, right, like she'd fall for that.

(She will, and this resistance is a practice in vain.)

"Get out," she tells him in a cold voice, trying as she might to make herself sound cold and unaffected—like she's not slowly, little by little falling apart inside.

"Regina…" he begins, reaching out to touch her but she moves away from the bed (regretting it when she feels her world tilt a little), and puts some—a lot—of distance between them.

"I said get out Robin," she reiterates, and juts her chin, facing away from him. She bites down her bottom lip to keep them from trembling.

"Regina, please, talk to me," he begs, "What's gotten you like this? I understand that nothing is okay, right now, but if you could please tell me why, because I have been trying to come up with reasons you're being like this, something I might have done, but I come up with nothing."

She looks at him, suddenly feeling angry, eyes blazing. "Ah, so making out in front of you library with a gorgeous blonde is nothing wrong? Is it a fucking hobby?" Her voice rises at every inflection and she watches as Robin flinches before realization dawns on him. She scoffs. "That's right Robin, didn't think I'd catch you, did you?"

"Regina," he pleads, crawling over the bed to get to her side. "There is an explanation to this, perhaps if you would just listen to me, please." He sounds desperate, like she literally just told him it's over—which it will be in a minute—and Regina tries to fortify her will.

"And how would you explain it without you sounding like a cheater?" she asks ironically, and moves back when he stands before her.

He moves forward, and then she moves a step back. She throws him a warning glance, and he throws his hands up in the air.

"Look Regina, okay, you've seen what happened yesterday outside the library, but why didn't you come to me and ask me?"

"Ask you what? If you still wanted to stay with me when you so clearly found a younger model? Ask you to stay and make a fool out of myself?" she says, staring at him as anger poured out of her. Her head is still pounding, and she doesn't really want or need this at this time, but what else can she do? "We all know what we are, Robin! A dalliance, a thrill, and now that that's gone, party's over, you're moving on to another. I just had hoped you would have the decency to tell me that I'm being replaced!"

She doesn't mean her words, but she's wounded, and quite frankly so jealous that she almost feels her jealousy pouring out of her, and she's just lashing out, but it isn't like she can scoop up her words and put them back in her mouth. So she just stands her ground, even as he backs her into the wall, his face looking nothing but angry at her words. She knows him not to be a violent man, and she knows he would never hit her, but at that moment, she is almost scared of him.

He looked positively murderous.

And it's even more obvious at the way his words are ground out as he spits them to her face. "You think this is what it is? That this is just about fucking you?" he asks, as he takes another step forward, and she another step back. "You think I moved to NYU so I could fuck another woman because I'm tired of you?"

She doesn't answer, only looks up at him and swallows. His anger is vibrating off of him in waves.

She feels the wall against her back, and she stands on her tiptoes, as he braces his hands on each side of her head, effectively trapping her between two hard surfaces—the wall, and his chest (which is accentuated by that t-shirt he's wearing, but now is not the time to focus on that).

He swoops down so that their mouths are level, and her eyes flicker, falling shut as arousal starts to pool low in her belly. Her breath hitches as he moves one hand to grasp a fistful of her hair.

"You think every time I bury myself balls deep inside of your wet cunt, it's me doing anything but making love to you, and every time I eat that hot pussy of yours, I do it with every intention of moving on to the next thing in a skirt that moves. You think…that every time I trust in and out of you and you roll your head back, and you arch your back, that's fucking?" he growls, and good god, she shouldn't find it hot, but she does, dear god forgive her, she does. "I'll show you fucking, Regina. I'm going to take you, hard, deep, fast and rough, right against this wall. I'm going to tear out your clothes and fuck you until you beg me to stop. And when I do stop, you're going to forget your own name."

She swallows and then thrusts her chest against him, finding courage and brazenness in places she doesn't know she'd find them (mainly, she doesn't what parts of her still had them). "You're all talk and no walk, Locksley," she tells him, turning her nose up at him.

That does it.

His mouth descends to capture her lips in a heated kiss, and she hasn't really fully registered anything before his tongue is prodding and sliding inside her mouth, tasting and testing her, not leaving any part untouched. His hands are frantic as he rips the pajamas she doesn't even remember getting into off her body and throwing them down on the floor. Her own hands are no better and are moving in their own accord, as they basically shred his tshirt off his chest, letting them pool at their feet. Next to go are his pants, and her bottoms, and before a whole three minutes pass, they're both down to their underwear.

His mouth is insistent, but teasing, and he draws back to place hot sucking kisses down the column of her throat. She knows he will leave a mark, but at this point she doesn't even care as she claws at his back. He lowers his head further and kisses her breasts, playing with her as he licks and licks but never quite where she wants him too. One of his hands come up to palm her breasts, the feeling of her nipple rubbing against his skin, making her buck her hips just as he pulls the other nipple to his mouth and sucks hard. It feels so good, she thinks, moaning as she wraps her legs around his naked torso.

He runs his hand down her body until it finds her sex covered by lace. He moves her panties aside and starts running his index finger up and down her clit, making her throw her head back and for her eyes to roll back in pleasure. She's wet, so fucking wet, and she can feel her muscles clench with the need to feel him inside her.

His fingers then slide inside her, pumping in and out, and she can't help the soft scream that escapes her throat as he fucks her. She needs more, wants more, and she decided to get exactly what she wants, moving her hand down to grasp his hard cock, pumping up and down, in rhythm to his fingers thrusting in and out of her.

She doesn't last long with the assault on her pleasure spot, and she cums within a few more thrusts, her cum spilling to his hands, and his mouth muffling her scream as he kisses her breath away. She's panting, chest rising up and down in erratic rhythm but she doesn't get a moment, because before she knows what's happening, he's inside her, pumping in and out. It doesn't hurt, of course it doesn't, she's so hot and wet for him, but it does take her by surprise, making her moan aloud, before she manages to catch up and thrust against him, in and out, hard and fast, deep and rough. She is holding on to his shoulders, her nails no doubt leaving marks, but she doesn't care, she's getting fucked out of her own wits, and it feels so fucking good as he pounds into her again and again. His face is of pure concentration, and hers is of pure pleasure, especially when he tilts her hips and he starts pounding onto that sweet spot that makes her cry out because of how good he makes her feel.

"Yeah, baby, do you like it when I fuck you like this, huh?" he asked, though he needs no answer. She nods, either way, unable to form any answers at the moment.

His mouth is on her neck, sucking against the succulent flesh, leaving bruises she'll have to cover up, and she thinks she'll return the pleasure later, but right now she focuses on the pleasure happening a little bit further south. The sound of skin slapping skin is loud against the quiet room, and occasionally one or both of them would moan and groan, or she would let out a soft scream when she feels him hit her gspot again and again, until she could feel herself cuming right there against the wall, in his arms.

"OH yeah, ungh, yes baby, oh yes fuck me, urngh, right there, oh yeah, god, oh fuck," she screams as he pounds and pounds into her and she could almost feel it—feel herself tumbling over the edge of precipice, her mouth opening to let out a scream, her muscles contracting inside her, milking him as he rides out the last of her orgasm while thrusting inside her, until he too cums, spilling all of him inside her.

She's tired, so tired, but so well fucked, and she feels like she's in heaven, boneless as he carries her to the bed and lies down on it with her, spooning her. She falls asleep with a smile on her face.

 **…**

Robin wakes and opens his eyes to find two pairs of brown eyes staring at him. He smiles, and moves a little, even when his muscles protest (it's been rather an intense fucking session), and he pulls her closer to him, dropping a kiss on her forehead.

"I love you, Regina," he murmurs. "Very much, and I'm not going to leave you and move on to the next woman, a younger model as you say. I will never leave you."

He could feel her shoulders deflate, as she looks up at him and stares at him, her lips forming a pout. "But I saw you Robin, you kissed her! Whoever she is!" The green eyed monster is rearing its ugly head again. "And then there had been days, I ignored it and told myself that it was nothing…because I trusted you, but for days you would be distant, and I can't reach you, and sometimes you smell of a woman's perfume and it's not mine!"

"First of all, she kissed me, I didn't kiss her," he said, his voice soft and leveled. His hands are running up and down her back. "It all happened so fast, one moment she was just thanking me, in what I thought was a friendly hug and kiss, and then the next moment, she was kissing me square on the mouth. When I realized what is happening, I pushed her right away. I was prepared to tell you. I tried to call you so many times, but I always get directed to voice mail."

She looks at him skeptically, and he sighs (later, when they are no longer preoccupied, she'll check her phone and realize that he is right, he'd told her that there had been something that's happened and he wanted to tell her about it).

"I have only been distant, because I wanted to pass this subject I was partners with this girl on. I don't want to have to retake in on the summer break because I want to take you and our sons away for a while, a little vacation just the four of us. So I'd really been concentrating. And again, this girl is my partner in this class, and I guess her perfume is overpowering that you smell it off of me, actually, I don't guess, I know her perfume is overpowering, because I try not to choke on the smell everyday. I know that I have failed you, that that little scene had somewhat given you a reason to doubt me, but I promise you, there is nothing going on with me and her. You're the only one that I want."

"But she kissed you," she repeats petulantly, not because she doesn't believe him but because she' can see it play over and over again in her mind's eye and it makes her want to pull all that girl's hair out.

"I pushed her away no more than a second after it happened and told her in no uncertain terms that I am in a happily committed relationship with the love of my life," he swear, and maybe he's right, she certainly hadn't stayed that long to try and find out. "I don't ever want to kiss anyone else but you, I don't want anyone else but you, baby."

He rolls over so that he's hovering above her and kisses her lips softly before kissing the tip of her nose.

"I love you," he murmurs.

She wraps her arms around her neck, sighing, as she feels her heart piece itself back together. She knows she should have trust him, and though she knows she might have had the right to feel jealous, she thinks now that maybe cutting him off and not hearing his side might have been a little drastic.

"I know you're scared to fall deep, to get hurt, to be burned, because you've been hurt so many times before, but you can trust that I will always try to protect your heart. I could never believe how you could let a common thief like me steal something so valuable, but I'm glad you're not trying to get it back." He looks at her with his heart in his eyes. "I don't even want to give you a reason to be jealous, and I never want to hurt you okay? So whenever something bothers you, talk to me. I always want to help you."

"Silly," she says, smiling. "You can't steal something that's been given to you, remember?" She sighs and she pulls him closer. "I love you Robin. I'm sorry I was jealous."

He smiled as he rolled over again so that she is lying on top of him. "It's okay, trust me, I'm not immune to jealousy either," he says, making her look at him in confusion and surprise. "Oh yes, you have no idea how many times I've wanted to throttle Graham Humbert and Jefferson Hatter for even breathing the same air as you."

She laughs in surprise and shakes her head. "You don't have to worry about them though, as I am yours completely," she tells him sincerely, leaning down so she could kiss him fully.

"As I am yours as well," he tells her, looking her straight in the eyes.

She smirks at him and moves down to whisper in his ear. "But if I catch any girl sniffing around you once again, not only am I going to tear her apart, I will break both your arms too," she threatens, half seriously.

He laughs at her and agrees, before he takes her again, this time more lovingly, and if Regina leaves a few little (okay, a lot big) marks on his neck, well then she's just confirming the world's worst kept secret, right?

* * *

 **Prompt:** **jealous Regina followed by smut**

 **A/N2: Please let me know if you have prompts and if you liked this one! Thanks for reading! Just a quick note, i know that i said last time that im going to be on hiatus, but really, i realized that I wasnt going to let some faceless and nameless bully make me stop doing what i love and what a lot more people appreciate me doing. So you know, screw it, Im writing fics, more and more fics as long as I can! So thanks for everyone who supported me through the ordeal, my heart is full of love and appreciation for all of you❤**


	6. Six

**This one is for Micki and her patience.**

* * *

Robin wouldn't call himself an awkward person. In fact, he'd reckon he is more of a social butterfly, able to adapt to his surroundings, to the people around him, something he's sure his girlfriend would agree with—which, is why he thinks she hadn't hesitated to bring him to an event for the faculty in Columbia, because she knows he can hold his own.

It's a bit surprising to him at first. He knows how big of a step it is for her, especially considering how she works here and some of the people they will encounter that night would be people who'd known he used to study there, and now he's dating his former professor. Of course, it's all in the past and they aren't doing anything wrong, considering, and he's not too iffy with anything about their love story, but he knows she worries. So, he cannot feel anything but pride at the fact that she's finally taking great leaps in letting the public know about them. Granted, they aren't exactly keeping it a secret, but he's still proud.

After all, it can't be that easy for her.

He smiles at his reflection on the mirror, he's bound to pick her up in a while, and he's taken great pains in getting ready, making sure that he looks well enough to have her in his arms. He doesn't want to be a cause of her embarrassment. The way the two of them have met and fallen in love are already interesting stories enough, and though he will never be embarrassed of their love or love story, his head is not far up in his ass or under the sand to not know that people talk and people judge. In fact, he knows that it's human nature to do that. So he's loath to do anything to cause more chins wagging about things they don't understand.

He's not going to put his girlfriend through that stupid kind of stress.

He slides his watch on his wrist and fastens it, before he puts on the perfume she loves (the one that has him smelling like forest, she said), and slips on his shoes. He makes his way downstairs, where his son is patiently— _not—_ waiting for him on the couch ready for his night with Henry. It's his first sleepover with a kid around his age and he's neck deep in excitement over it. Especially since it's with the coolest kid he's known. And since it's Henry's Aunt Mary Margaret watching them, there will be a lot of candy involved and unhealthy amount of popcorn.

"How do I look?" he asks his son, and it says a lot about him that he's asking his five year old about how he looks, but he won't have asked Will in today anyway, knowing the kind of ribbing the man will give him if he had.

"Good," Roland says with a nod, although he's a bit distracted by the yellow sponge and his loyal pin starfish sidekick and their shenanigans playing on the telly.

Robin shakes his head and chuckles, tells his son to turn off the Telly and get ready so they could drive to Regina's. He is met with a very enthusiastic " _yeah!"_ , and then the five year old scrambles to put on his shoes and grab all of his things (he's very adamant that he can do it himself), although Robin beats him to it and takes his bag while instructing him to grab the stuffed monkey that Regina had gifted him when they'd first met and he hadn't let go since.

The drive to Regina's is mostly quiet, with Roland only asking a few times if they are there yet. When they arrived, he'd had to reign his little terror in and ask him to slow down, that they don't want to seem too eager, even when they actually are.

He rings the doorbell and taps his foot as they wait for the door to open. When it finally does, it's Mary Margaret who greets them with a soft smile, urging them to come in. Robin's hold tightens on the bouquet he'd brought for his love, as Roland runs toward Henry the moment he spots the older boy. Henry high fives him, and then looks up to wave at Robin, greeting him enthusiastically, one he returns before both boys are off to play Henry's new game.

"She'll be down in a sec," Mary Margaret informs him with a smile as he lets her lead him to the living room.

She urges him to sit and asks him if he wants anything but he declines her offer because all he wants is to see Regina at this point. He's anxious, as anxious as he'd been on their first official date, and it's almost ridiculous because it's just Regina, the love of his life, except it's not just Regina tonight, it's her and a room full of her colleagues—and well, that's a little nerve-wracking.

"Wow, mom you look really good," Henry exclaims, and it's what makes him look away from Mary Margaret (they'd been deep in conversation over her pregnancy), and Henry is almost right, but Regina doesn't look really good, she looks absolutely breathtaking.

"Yeah, you look real pretty Regina!" Roland chimes in, and she walks over to both boys to thank them with a kiss. Henry pulls away with a disgruntled " _Mom!"_ but Roland only hugs Regina tighter, making her grin.

She's wearing a simple black dress that falls a few inches above her knees. It hugs her body like second skin, and accentuates every curve, makes her ass look even more tantalizing, if that's even at all possible. Her cleavage is popping and sinful, but is covered by some kind of see through material that's the same material used for the sleeves which falls to her wrists in a cuff. She's wearing her hair up in a sleek pony tail, her eyes lined and her lips painted a dangerously delicious shade of red, and she looks absolutely amazing.

She smiles at him when she sees him and starts making her way to him. He finds that he can barely breathe, can barely function, can barely find the words to even describe or explain right at that moment how wonderfully gorgeous she looks.

"So?" she asks a little timidly as she stares up at him. As if there's any doubt about it.

"You look..." he trails off. There is not enough adjective in the world to describe how positively radiant she looks right then.

"Yes?" she urges with a smirk when she realizes the full extent of her effect on him.

He shakes his head and clears his throat. "You look absolutely gorgeous," is the best he can do, and he leans down to show her how appreciative he is of her. She pushes him away before they get too heated. He sighs and runs a hand down her hair. "Stunning in every way," he murmurs, and they look at each other in a way he can only describe as eye fucking.

They're caught up in their own world, but it's broken by a cough, and they both look up to find Mary Margaret grinning at them.

"Don't mind me," she says with a goofy smile on her lips. "I didn't want to interrupt, I just wanted to remind you that you both don't want to be late."

"Are those for me?" Regina asks him then, pointing at the flowers he'd brought for her, and he looks down to his hand and nods. He momentarily forgot because of how beautiful she is.

"Yes," he says, handing them to her. "They don't compare to how blooming you loo tonight, but I hope you like them," he adds as he watches her sniff the roses and smile.

"I love them," she tells him, reaching up to place a soft kiss against his lips. "Thank you, they're beautiful."

He nods, and holds her close.

Mary Margaret interrupts them by telling them they'll be late if they don't leave and offers to put the flowers in a vase so that Regina won't have to worry about it. Regina thanks her and they both call on their boys, asks them both to be good and mind Aunty MM, before kissing them goodnight and leaving for the night.

 **...**

She feels his eyes on her all night, feels his baby blues roam every curve hugged by the dress she'd specifically worn to make him swoon and salivate (because she feels confident in it, feels sexy in a way that she doesn't always, and it's a turn on for him, apart from how she knows how sexy he thinks she is already), and it makes her giddy, makes her a puddle of want for him too. It makes her feel naughty, and despite the fact that they're in a room full of her colleagues, she cannot help but tease him a little bit.

Nothing big, not really, just a suggestive glance here and there, a sway of her hips, and a well timed lick of her lips—all of it done to provoke him, to drive him crazy with want or need. She is careful not to go overboard, in case she herself gets too carried away. After all, her boyfriend is hot and is not without charm of his own that could turn her from flirtatious to downright ready to fuck within seconds, and of course she doesn't want that here, not now, not when they're in the middle of a crowd of people who may or may not already be judging them for being in love—as if it's any of their business.

She supposes she should care a little more, be a little more cautious, after all these are people she works with and if she's not careful she could be the next hot topic in the break room, but she just cannot find it in her heart to do so. Let them talk, let them judge, fuck it and fuck them all, she's happy, stupidly so, and she has her boyfriend in her arms, looking deliciously sinful in his navy suit, looking good enough to eat—and she will, later, later when she finally gets him alone.

She turns to smile at him just as the Art History professor, Jefferson Hatter, excuses himself to greet Mallory Draco (the no nonsense Zoology professor, who also happens to be Regina's sorority sister and ex drinking buddy—and she pins a note on her mind to greet her later), but finds his brow knitted into a frown, and his lips pulled down. She's not sure why, and she asks, probes a little into why he's suddenly so sullen when they'd started the first half of the party really well, but he shrugs her off, tells her it's nothing, she shouldn't worry, and tries to force a smile. But she knows him better than that, knows better than to believe that nothing is wrong when it clearly does not look like it, but she lets it slide nonetheless, not wanting to ruin the night for the both of them. She reaches up to land a kiss on his lips, careless of who's looking—they can all gawk if that's what they want, Regina doesn't give a fuck—and that seems to pacify him a little, has him smiling a small but genuine smile at her, and has some of the tension leave his shoulder.

 **...**

He is tensed. Actually, that's an understatement. He's pissed. He's royally fucking pissed, and he's not sure why.

Oh, he knows why, knows that it's the subtle glance of appreciation that the _mad_ Hatter (as his students had called him back when Robin had still been attending Columbia) sends his girlfriend's way, knows it the way that he so carelessly lands a hand at the back of Regina's back as though Robin's hadn't already been resting there. It's the kiss on the cheek that lasts longer than necessary, or the hand holding that's so blatant and hardly even disguised for his benefit.

He's just not sure why it bothers him so much—he trusts Regina. So, he tries not to be pissed, because again, he trusts Regina, knows it's just friendly for her and that she loves him. For fuck's sake, she'd brought him here to meet her colleagues, knowing full well that half of the room had been his professors, too, and she doesn't seem to care about that, because all that he is, all that he cares about being is someone she is in love with. So he knows that the green eyed monster rearing its ugly head is just an irrational part of him.

Perhaps, it's because he knows he's not good enough for her, that she's a well accomplished literature professor, about to earn her doctorate, and this room is filled with men more deserving, more equal, with more to prove, and more to bring into the relationship than sweet sentiments and love. Of course, he understands the importance of that, understands that love and trust are the foundations of a lasting relations, and he's grateful that they have both, but he still wishes he could bring more, could make her proud of him somewhat, be something more for her and their kids.

But it's not just Jefferson Hatter he worries about, though he wishes that's the case as he watches the man bounce to the other side of the room to go and greet Dr. Draco—he's harmless, a flirt and charming, sure, but he's not a threat. He's not entirely pissed at _just_ Hatter, because as soon as the man leaves, another comes to ogle and pant over his girlfriend, and it's working on his last nerve.

For God's sake, Regina isn't a piece of meat, she's a woman, and she's not a display in the shop for them to come and ogle at. It doesn't stop them though, doesn't particularly stop Graham Humbert—the Botany professor who Robin has liked at first but he's starting to loathe the more he stands there and looks at his girlfriend in the way that make Robin's skin crawl. Robin inhales deeply as his nostrils flare, and he tries to control his temper when Graham kisses Regina's cheek and lingers a little too long for comfort, and Regina doesn't seem the least bit bothered or phased by it.

Well, damn it to hell, he grouses in his head as he sulks by Regina's side.

He watches like a hawk as once or twice, Graham accidentally brushes Regina's skin or arms, or whatever part of her he can reach. He ignores Robin completely, too, and though that usually won't bother Robin, it does now because he knows the motive behind it.

Graham is being a dick is all. He thinks he can monopolize Regina's attention and is shameless enough to flaunt it to Robin. Suddenly, all the jealousy that Robin has been trying to stamp down for the better part of the night had exploded inside him.

There's a reason Graham is doing this, a reason behind his audacity to flaunt it to Robin's face—because he knows he can. And that's what makes Robin sick, to think that he might have had the right once, and him thinking he still has it, despite her being in a very serious, committed relationship.

Unable to stop himself from seeing red _and_ green, and not being entirely sure if she can stop himself from punching Graham Humbert in the face right then, he excuses himself. He extracts himself from his girlfriend and she throws him a curious look, but he doesn't bother to explain. If she can ignore him in favour of Graham, then he certainly does not owe her explanations (it's a stupid, childish thought but he doesn't feel like being very rational right now).

He makes his way to the side of the hall. It's part of a hotel that the faculty and staff had rented for the night, and there's a garden just right outside it, as it is detached to the actual hotel. He walks down the path and enjoys the peace and quiet for a while as the sound of laughter and music from the hall slowly fades away.

He looks up and tries to breathe in and out slowly, trying to calm himself because he doesn't want to make a scene, doesn't want to do anything that might embarrass Regina. He's an embarrassment enough, she doesn't need to deal with the stress of having to clean up after a huge mess he'll undoubtedly make.

The moon is glowing and beautiful, and he tries to focus on that, tries to channel his anger into more pleasant thoughts: her smile, her dark eyes, their boys, Henry's happy cheer when he'd finally landed an arrow on the bulls eye (it's a nerf set he'd gotten the boy after he'd been so excited to try his hand at archery upon seeing Robin—but Robin deemed him too young for an actual set), Roland cuddling with Regina. He thinks of their family, unofficial yet because as much as they love each other he knows it's too early, knows they aren't ready for that level of commitment, but they are a family nevertheless.

He thinks of her and her commitment to him, thinks of how brave she is being, facing her colleagues and tagging her no good boyfriend with her. She could have had anyone in that room, hell, half of that room had been panting over her, and he'd seen the looks that had been thrown her way—appreciative ones; and the looks thrown his way—all wondering, some disgusted that he even had the nerve to be among their ranks. Regina deserves better than him, that he knows, and though he hates to admit it, half of that room might be better for her, starting with Graham Humbert and Jefferson Hatter.

He suddenly has the biggest urge to cry, as he takes a seat on one of the benches. His head falls to the palm of his hands, and he tries to think that no, Regina has chosen him, over Jefferson or Graham, and over all of the Jeffersons and Grahams of the world. She's chosen him.

"Robin?" he hears her soft voice call, and he looks up at her with glassy eyes, and she looks back at him with puzzlement. She walks over to where he is sitting and takes a seat beside him, her warm hand cupping the back of his neck. "Are you okay, babe?"

 _No._ He is not okay, but does he really want to burden her with it?

"You shouldn't put your hands around other men," is what comes out of his lips in a growl and he could absolutely kick himself. Of all the things to ask, right? Of course, he has not an ounce of control over his feelings, and it's clear that they're doing the talking for him.

A gasp slips past her perfect little mouth, and Robin thinks of the way she sounds when they make love, when he fucks her tight little cunt, and his anger doubles, so sure as he is that Graham had been on the receiving end of it too.

"What did you just say?" she asks him incredulously, and no he doesn't really want to fight, does not want to turn this into an ugly argument, but his tongue seems to have a mind of its own and it lashes out.

"I said," he begins and he turns to her, clasping her wrist in his hand, enough to hold her but not enough to hurt her, "you shouldn't put your hands around other men." He pulls her close, and she resists at first, but melts into him anyway when he kisses her, pushes his tongue in without permission and starts stroking, sucking, nipping at hers. "Not when you look as good as you do," he adds before taking her mouth in a possessive, rough kiss once more.

She pulls away and pushes him slightly. "How dare you?!" she asks and it makes him regret his actions right away.

He lets her wrist go and shakes his head. If he didn't deserve her before, he certainly could not claim to even be worthy to be in her presence now. He'd let male ego take over, and now he knows it's going to cost him deeply.

He hangs his head and doesn't look her in the eye, cannot actually look her in the eye. "I'm sorry," he says plaintively, and he sighs, rubs a hand across his face and hates himself more and more by the second.

Regina seems to take pity in him as she takes his chin between her forefinger and thumb, the way she does with their boys, and she gives him a small smile. "I forgive you," she says, "I know that wasn't you. I know that something is bothering you. But I cannot help you if you don't tell me."

She never ceases to amaze him, her heart, her capacity for forgiveness, her eyes now full of love and understanding. He loves her so fucking much.

"What's wrong, Robin?" she asks.

"Who is Graham Humbert to you?" he asks, instead of answering her question. And he knows that isn't an answer, not completely, but it's an answer in its own, and understanding dawns on Regina's beautiful brown eyes.

A soft gasp tumbles from her lips and she knows. Sure, they've talked about it some time back, when she'd been on this end of the stick, when she'd been the one jealous, and sure, he'd seen the two men hanging around his girlfriend and had been quietly jealous over that, too, but they'd never really discussed it in detail. Perhaps, he hadn't looked as hard as he had now, and missed the signs.

"Okay, I'll be honest because I don't want to hide anything from you, and because I want to assure you that you shouldn't be worried," she begins and it's confession enough, or at least it's enough to make him want to go back to the room and thrash Graham good and proper. "Graham and I have a history together—a complicated one at that."

"How complicated?" he grounds out and he tamps down his anger, puts a lid down the green eyed monster's head because she doesn't deserve his fury, doesn't deserve the feelings he's feeling right now.

"We had a one night stand," she says, and it makes him want to punch a hole on a surface—like Graham's face. "And a few more after that, but it's nothing serious, I guess at one point we both hoped we felt more for each other, but it's not to be. We were casual, not committed—nothing like us." The last bit is imploring, pleading, as if asking him to see reason.

And he will, in a moment, he just needs to stew in his anger for a minute.

"Do you still wish you felt more?" he asks and he loathes to sound so insecure, but damnit, he loves this woman more than life, more than anything barring their sons, and well, he cannot help it.

"Oh God no," she murmurs, sounding properly horrified, as though he's said something so preposterous, and to him it is, it really is. "Lord God no. I...whatever I had with Graham, it's in the past, and it's not real. He doesn't make me feel the way you do, doesn't make my heart beat the way it does only for you. He's...he was an outlet when I needed him, when I needed to feel something and nothing at the same time—maybe to make sure that somehow, I'm still here, you know, and I'm still human."

"Did it work?" he asks. "Did you feel what you wanted to?"

She shakes her head. "No," she says flatout, and he looks at her, really looks at her and finds sincerity in her eyes. "Graham was...he was just there, a warm body to warm my bed, but he never warmed my heart."

It's hard to hear, hurts him to hear it, but he appreciates her honesty. He knows it's taken her a lot of courage to admit that. He knows of her history, knows her struggle before she'd gotten Henry, and even after, the struggle of being a single mother, or losing the people she'd loved, of feeling desolate and alone and unsure, and he knows how desperate she'd been then if she'd had to resort to the physical gratification, just to feel something and to forget all the other feelings. It must have been hard for her, too, to set out to do something and have failed miserably at it.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, his anger ebbing away slowly.

She nods, and then she looks down at her palm, and she's the one looking insecure now, though he's not sure why. "Do you really doubt my love for you?" she asks, and ah, that's why. But no, of course he doesn't. "Have I ever given you the impression that I didn't love you, that I was going to leave you? Because I know I have before...when we were fighting this...but Robin, I never want you to doubt what I feel for you." She looks up at him, her eyes full of hurt, and fuck no, this isn't what he'd set out to do. "I love you, and I will prove it to you, will keep proving it to you till I completely erase that thought from your heart and mind."

She looks remorseful and heartbroken, and he feels like a grade A asshole, and fuck him and fuck his stupid jealousy because fuck this shit, this is totally _not_ what he wants.

"No, God Regina no," he says, and he hauls her into his arms and holds her tight, holds her to wash away the doubts and the hurt and the pain caused by his stupid jealousy. "No, I don't doubt you. I was just jealous and stupid, and I never meant to hurt you my love," he says, kissing her once more, with the same amount of passion as earlier but not nearly as brutal, in fact without the cruelty of his kiss before, but with all the gentleness and love he feels for her, always feels for her.

Regina is the one to pull away but presses a soft kiss against his lips once more before resting her forehead against his. "I love you, Robin," she says.

"And I you, my darling," he murmurs. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I was jealous." She shakes her head, about to protest, but he shushes her with a kiss. "I'm scared," he admits. "I'm scared that one day you'll wake up, take one good look at everything and everyone around you and see that there are others out there who are better for you. And I'm not scared because I doubt your love, or our love, because I don't, I never will. I know you love me, I feel it in every kiss, see it in your eyes and smile, and I feel it when you hold me and when we make love. And I hope you do the same." She nods, and promises that _of course, yes, she does._ "But I'm scared because I know in my heart that _I_ am no good for you, that you deserve better. There is a room filled with men with degrees and doctorates with so much accolades and so much to give you—a comfortable life, a comfortable home, and all the finer things for Henry. I could offer you none of that, not yet, and I feel...undeserving of you sometimes, because you deserve the best in the world, and so does Henry."

"But don't you see?" she asks, as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. It's not. "You offer me the world, with your love, as cheesy as that sounds. I feel like I'm a Queen just by the way you look at me. And I don't need fine things, I need you. And Roland, and Henry, and our little family—that's all I need. You are all I need." She pauses as she cuddles closer to him, clings even tighter to him. "The way you love my son like he's yours, the way you love and care for him and Roland, equally, and the way you love _me_ , that's all I need and want. All of those stuffy spoiled men inside can shove their doctorate degrees up their asses, I don't care about that, because no one, none of them can give me what you give me. No one can love me the way you love me, Robin. That's all that matters to me."

He looks down at her, finds the sincerity, the eagerness in her eyes and he cannot resist it, he leans down and kisses her, takes what she gives him, all of it, because as long as she wants him, he'll be there, for her and be exactly whatever she needs him to be.

"Marry me," he breathes out, and fuck he hasn't planned for this, has thought only moments ago how they're not ready for this, but it's out, the words are out and he cannot take them back. He looks at her eyes, and finds the surprise there. He rushes to explain. "Not right away, not until you want to. I can wait for you forever if you want me to...but I just...Be mine, Regina. Say you'll let me love you for the rest of our lives."

It's not enough to call her girlfriend anymore. It seems such a frivolous word compared to what they feel for each other, for what they are to each other, and he needs her promise, just as he promises her that their futures are now irrevocably intertwined—that one day he might call her his wife.

The unshed tears on her eyes finally fall as she nods vigorously and throws her arms around him, kissing him for all he is worth. He doesn't have a ring now, but of course, he'll get her one, soon, but for now it's enough for him when she says:

"Yes, of course, yes, a million times."

He hugs her closer to him then and thanks his lucky stars or whatever force brought her to him for giving him the opportunity to love this stunning woman in his arms.

The world might think that he's not deserving of her, might not be worthy, and he might agree but here, right now, as she looks at him with love in her eyes, looking at him like he _does_ deserve her, he feels like for once, he does, he really does.


End file.
